


The Wolf and the Bastard

by dolores85



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Confusion, Domination, F/M, Ramsay Redeemable?, Romance, Sexual Frustration, Submission, Wicked Sansa, not everything is as it seems, reluctance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolores85/pseuds/dolores85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa discovers that her life in King's Landing has made her jaded and dark. After Petyr informs her of her impending marriage Ramsay Bolton, she's disgusted he would even consider such an unholy union between her and the people who murdered her family. The wolf inside of her paced quietly in the dark for years under Joffrey's torment... And now she demands to come out and show the Boltons that the North remembers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by many awesome works on here. This was my desired reaction to Sansa's marriage to Ramsay. I wanted her to be strong and also to realize that even monsters can be tamed. This will also address Ramsay's own character flaws (yeah, I know) and attempt to make him a little redeemable.
> 
> Also, I own nothing! This is all belongs to GRRM. Thanks and I hope you all enjoy. I'll update as much as I can.

The coach rocked gently along the northern mountains and valleys. The quiet inside was almost more deafening than the wind howling outside. She watched the snowflakes fall mercilessly over the barren landscape, slowly covering the ground and erasing the earth beneath. How fitting a description, she thought, it reminded her of her heart: cold and bereft. No chance for life to spring up in the empty organ. She remembered trying to amend for her faults, her hand in her father's death, her sister, Arya's disappearance and her current situation. She was on the run with Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish. The least trustworthy person she had ever met and yet she had no choice... As always, she never had a choice. She was a victim to circumstances that impeded her ability to make a choice in her own life.

She rubbed her fingers together on her lap. Looking down she saw that they were a light blue color from the cold. How she had missed the North. The Red Keep had offered mystery and warmth from the sun shining high above... And then all to soon she had discovered its fallacies. How cold the people were despite the climate. Empty shells of human beings that posed as friends and family. She had learned quickly to play the game, but not too quickly to shield herself from Joffrey. The bastard. She gritted her teeth as she let her thoughts stray back to her captor. She had escaped that hell only to wind up in another. Now she was going to marry a real bastard: Ramsay fucking Snow... No, she thought, Ramsay Bolton now. She remembered her contempt as a child for her half-brother Jon Snow. Encouraged by her mother's general disdain for Jon, Sansa had never fully embraced her brother... Come to think of it, she had never really embraced him at all. All of those years spent at arms length and now he was the only family she had left. 

"Sweetling, what troubles you so? You are much too beautiful to wear such a scowl on that face" Petyr crooned softly while he reached over and grabbed her icy fingers. She resisted the urge to snatch her hands back. She hated this snake. Despite "rescuing" her from the Lannisters' clutches, she knew Littlefinger always had a motive. He wouldn't have saved her if she wasn't worth something to him. To his plans.

"Nothing." She smiled complacently. Always keeping that pleasant look of acceptance on her face. "I was just thinking about Winterfell." She looked out the window. "Perhaps I could see it just one more time before we go to the Dreadfort..."

"I am afraid not, my sweet Sansa. Our hosts are expecting us soon. If you wish to have the North under Stark rule again, then we need to make haste." 

She closed her eyes briefly at the term "hosts." The thought of those savages holding the North instead of the Stark family made her sick. She was a guest in her own lands. But of course, the sweet demure Sansa would play the game. Turning back to Littlefinger, she plastered that goddamned smile back on her face. "You're right, Petyr. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can take back the North."

He finally let go of her hands and smiled at her. "We should be arriving there tomorrow morning. My little birds have informed me that the Lannister's still have no idea where you are. You are out of their clutches now, my Sweetling. Never again will they hurt you."

No, she thought, perhaps they wouldn't... But she knew the Boltons would. She was preparing herself for her wedding night already. She would have to submit to that bastard and let him have her body. She would be forced to produce heirs and smile quietly as if she didn't have a brain. She would watch her children reflect all of their sire's traits and she would hate them for it. She could feel herself shaking, but not from the cold. She needed wine. It was the only reprieve from all of this. It allowed her mind to float far away from her body. Perhaps she should get drunk on her wedding night. At least then she maybe couldn't feel him ripping into her. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be present for any of it.


	2. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay's thoughts on his marriage to Sansa.

And they call me a bastard, Ramsay thought smugly. His father butchered Catelyn Stark and her pathetic little King of the North, Robb, effectively snuffing out any other claim to the North. A strategic move. A smart move. Personally he would have lived up to the Bolton name and made an example out of their skinned bodies, but his father refrains from such "savagery." Yet here he sits, now betrothed to Catelyn's first daughter, Sansa. A match his father set up for him... Maybe he's more savage than he appears. Ramsay smiles at the thought. Now the ultimate insult to the Stark family. He gets to fuck their daughter and impregnate her with his heirs. The Boltons were the final axe in the Stark family's downfall and now a Stark will continue the line of Boltons. How perfect, he thought. 

He had heard of Sansa's beauty and was rather surprised his father wouldn't marry her himself. He could easily dispatch of Walda Frey and tear down the Frey clan before anything could be done otherwise. Maybe his father really did see him as a legitimate heir now that he wasn't a Snow anymore. He hated his father and wanted his attention and acceptance all the same. It made him angry that he relied on another's opinion so much. He fucking hated it. Many of his sessions with Reek were evidence of his displeasure. 

Now there was a fun thought: his little Reek all curled up in a ball seeking his affections all the while he crouched over him with a flaying knife gripped tightly in his hand, stroking Reek's hair. Reek sought his Master's approval almost as much as Ramsay himself sought his father's... He didn't like the parallels that presented. He wasn't weak like his pet was. He was resilient. He was the predator, never the prey. 

Sighing, and suddenly rather angry at the direction his thoughts took, Ramsay stood up from the table in the great hall. Hearing the clank of metal, he looked down to see that food had been placed in front of him at some point. He was pleased that no one dared interrupt his thoughts; they were all too aware of what would happen to them if they displeased him. Not feeling particular hungry, he grabbed the meat and potatoes and started his descent to the kennels. His beloved girls deserved good food from time to time when he didn't have a hunt planned. Plus, thinking of Reek made him want to pay a visit to his pet and let him know Sansa Stark would soon be coming to the Dreadfort to marry him. Nothing pleased him more than watching Reek's reactions to what he said. He loved watching the evolution of comprehension within Reek. The fear. The anger. The acquiescence. Then he would beat him anyways. Maybe take another appendage. Smiling now, he thought about telling Myranda about his new engagement and watch her struggle to remain impassive. He always knew when her brows scrunched up that she was fighting her battle with jealousy. Perhaps he would beat her too if she so much as looked at him wrong. It was good to be him.


	3. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Ramsay meet for the first time.

The Dreadfort was an ominous presence, Sansa thought as she stepped out of the coach and onto the frozen ground. The wind whipped around her face and body, causing her to pull her furs tighter around her. Littlefinger sauntered up behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. 

Leaning forward he whispered in her ear, "This is your home for now, my sweet Sansa. This will be your domain in which you will rule under the guise of the Boltons. You can have your revenge against the people who slaughtered your family."

She leaned forward slightly, creating a comfortable space between them. She hated it when he touched her, she was not his to touch. She was no one's but her own. Staring at the entrance to the Dreadfort, she braced herself against a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. Behind those gates her future was waiting for her. A dark, bleak future that required her to give up more of herself so that she could rise again, like a Phoenix, and take back the North. Winter was upon them and she intended to live through it. The gate opened slowly to reveal guards bearing the flayed man on the shield, the symbol of House Bolton. 

Littlefinger used his hand on her lower back to guide her forward gently. He knew she was seething under the surface. He had spent enough time with her to know when she wasn't drinking, she was usually irate. Luckily all those years of practiced indifference around her enemies had made Sansa resilient. She knew if she was going to survive she needed to keep her guard up and her smile plastered on. As they approached Roose Bolton, Sansa allowed her eyes to survey the crowd. Standing not too far behind him was his fat wife, Walda Bolton. She was a rather unpleasant looking woman however if her overwhelming smile was anything to go by, she would be the one to keep the stagnant conversation going over meals. There are worst tortures, she supposed, like having to deal with her betrothed for more than necessary. And speaking of, she looked at the man standing next to Lady Walda. His eyes are what she noticed first, piercing and ice blue, they seemed to look right through her. Probing her features for weakness. She felt the wolf inside of her growl, challenging the man before her for dominance. Unwilling to look away, she met his stare head-on. She refused to look demure in front of him, despite her instincts screaming at her to yield. This was a dangerous man. She could feel it in her bones. He would be her greatest conquest in her battle for the North. 

"Lady Sansa." Lord Bolton said sternly. 

Tearing her gaze from the man standing next to Lady Bolton she looked at Roose Bolton and truly acknowledging his presence. She felt Petyr hovering to the left of her, she could practically feel his eyes watching every move she made. She knew he was hesitant to let her speak in this moment. He knew that under her calm facade she was was killing Lord Bolton over and over in her head. Her first time meeting with Roose Bolton after he brutally murdered her mother and eldest brother. She looked at him, not letting her face betray anything of what she was feeling. She was testing the waters as she saw Lord Bolton narrow his eyes slightly at her. Suddenly she affixed that perfect, welcoming smile where it should be and curtsied low while dipping her head. 

"Lord Bolton." She acknowledged. She straightened herself and looked him in the eyes again. The trepidation had faded slightly, but she could tell he was still gauging her. 

"I hope the trip here wasn't too difficult. I know the weather is rather unforgiving as of late. I'll make sure the servants warm your room prior to you retiring after dinner." Lord Bolton spoke with a slightly bored tone. Good, she thought, he wasn't going to make her talk about her trip after they dined. She learned she hated small talk. Found it wasteful and also reaffirming her desires to not engage with her "hosts" anymore than she had to until the wedding. 

"Lady Sansa, I would like to introduce my wife, Lady Walda." Said lady attempted a graceful curtsy. "And my son, Ramsay. He was delighted to hear of your betrothal to him. He will make a fine husband and will protect your future sons and daughters." As Lord Bolton gestured towards his son, Ramsay started walking towards Sansa. That predatory gleam in his eyes temporarily replaced with a fake enthusiasm.

"Lady Sansa, it is a pleasure to be in your company. My father was right in saying I will protect you and keep you safe." Ramsay held her gaze as he spoke. Smiling he continued, "I will also protect our children and their futures here in the North. They will be my upmost concern." She could hear the threat for what it was. Should she do anything to compromise a pregnancy, he would see to it that she never consider it again. 

Looking him straight in the eye, "Thank you, Ramsay, I look forward to bearing you many sons and providing you advice when you seek it. I will uphold the Bolton legacy and ensure our future here is secured." She could feel the bile in her throat as she spoke. But she could also feel the thrill of staring him down and letting him know that, despite the formality, she was not afraid of him or his threats. She was a Stark.

"Shall we go inside, Lord Bolton? I know we have many matters to discuss." Petyr inclined his head graciously. 

"Of course, Lord Baelish." Lord Bolton nodded and started leading everyone inside the keep. Ramsay, still standing in front of her, offered her his arm. She noticed that predatory gleam was back in his eyes again, his father having turned his back. She took his arm as delicately as possible. She didn't want to make more contact than she had to. Ramsay responded by squeezing her hand under the pressure of his forearm and bicep, effectively bringing her flush against the side of him as they started to walk. She couldn't help but notice the feeling of his muscled arm under her grasp. Despite his slightly shorter frame, he was very strong. She quickly decided she didn't like being next to him. Her wolf snarled, its maw dripping with saliva. 

"I thought you had red hair." The comment caught her off guard but she was thankful for the distraction. Lady Walda seemed genuinely curious as she turned back towards Sansa.

"It's a dye. It would be unwise for us to travel without me modifying my appearance. The Lannisters are still looking for me and they have sent guards far north of Kings Landing." She explained politely. 

"Oh, I see. We should have the servants wash it out for you, if you would like that?" Lady Walda inquired. 

"Yes, please. I would very much like that." Sansa gave her a small smile to indicate her appreciation. She couldn't help but notice Ramsay staring at her out of the corner of her eye. She pretended not to notice as she didn't want to engage him in any conversation. At all. As they reached the great dining hall, Ramsay escorted her to her seat at the table and helped her scoot forward in her chair. He then walked over to his chair across from her and sat down. All the while his eyes never left her face. Lord Bolton sat at the head of the table, Lady Walda to his left next to Ramsay and Petyr to his right next to Sansa.

The servants came in bearing wine. Finally, Sansa thought, her palms sweating at the mere sight of the wine. She knew she was becoming addicted to it but she didn't care. Her life was entirely fucked at the moment and she felt she deserved the blissful numbness those flagons had to offer. A cup was placed in front of her and filled. Her hands kept wringing themselves in her lap so she placed them calmly on the table, waiting impatiently for Lord Bolton to toast the beginning of the meal so she could take her first sip. Looking beyond her cup she noticed Ramsay was still watching her, only not her face this time, her hands. Looking down she noticed her white knuckles and slight shakiness. She snatched them back off the table. His eyes snapped back up to hers, he looked rather smug. She could tell he was thinking about her reaction and it wouldn't take him long to figure out it was due in fact to the wine and not her being afraid of him.

"I am grateful you have accepted the proposal from Ramsay of House Bolton." Lord Bolton was standing and holding up his cup to Petyr and then to Sansa. "It was always my wish to unite House Stark with House Bolton and make the North great again." Sansa raised her cup, as did the rest of the table, and took a long pull off the wine. It burned down in her chest and caused her cheeks to heat. She wanted to wring the life out of Roose Bolton for passing that shit off as an honor to her. She couldn't wait to burn this House to its core and watch the embers slowly die in the night.


	4. His Opponent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay wants to get into Sansa's head, among other things... But he finds that she may be in his.

He was a little stunned when he saw Sansa Stark. He expected a waif-like young girl to cower before him as they all did when they saw the look he gave them. She didn't. As a matter of fact, she actually had the audacity to stare him down as if she still owned the Dreadfort. The Dreadfort and all of its occupants belonged to him. Her confrontation was something he doesn't normally stand for. He couldn't deny the fact he found it intriguing and it made him want to mount that pretty little wolf right there and show her who owned her. He was rather surprised at himself for not being extremely irritated by her. He didn't respond well to others in authority, much less a young woman. And even less, a Stark... But she was... Beautiful. Porcelain, flawless skin. Straight posture and long feminine frame. She was the epitome of regal. He hated that. He hated that she made him hard. She was a toy, that's all.

Ramsay sat across the table from her, blatantly watching her and daring her to look at him again like that. Right now she was steadily avoiding his eyes as much as possible. Which was rather easy given that her cup was always lifted up to obscure her view. He noticed the shaking and her fists clenching earlier. His little wolf was dependent upon wine it seemed. He would keep that little tidbit to himself right now and maybe find a way to exploit it to make her obedient in the future. He smiled while thinking about making her beg him for the wine on their wedding night. Maybe even her begging for his cock too. Ramsay frowned at that thought. He didn't want her to beg. He wanted her to hurt. Sure he would fuck her but he certainly wasn't going to pleasure her. She was inferior to him. He had lived his entire life as a lesser being to bitches like her. She was just another "Lady" who would look down at him. He suddenly smirked. She was very tall so maybe she could literally look down at him if he took his boots off. His father cleared his throat loudly at Ramsay, effectively wiping all the expression off of his face. 

"Ramsay, perhaps you would like to take Lady Sansa up to her room." It wasn't a question. "Make sure she gets there safely." Also not a question. More or less his father's way of informing him he needed to be on his best behavior.

"Of course, I would love to show Lady Sansa where she will be staying." Ramsay smiled broadly at the thought of being alone with her. Maybe he could shake her now that there wasn't an audience-

"I know where I am staying. I have been here before." Came the clipped answer from her, disrupting his thoughts. He could see her scowl plainly and even if he was blind he could hear the contempt in her voice. Apparently she finally reached that level of intoxication that would drop her guard. If that greasy, shit-eating Littlefinger was surprised, he didn't show it. His father narrowed his eyes at Sansa and looked as if he would like to backhand her. Ramsay's smile dimmed a little and put on his best show of chivalry. Thankfully he was a good actor. He didn't have time to give a shit what women thought. Just his girls in the kennel mattered.

"Well I would love to escort you regardless." He said dutifully. "You are our guest here and you know how hospitable the Boltons are to guests." He sneered the last word a little to remind her that the man sitting at the head of the table disposed of her precious family without a thought. He couldn't wait to show her Reek.

He walked around the table to help Sansa up but she was already scooting back and attempting to stand. She wants to appear powerful and in control but as he observes her up close, he can tell she is definitely feeling the wine. Her Tully blue eyes which were quite sharp earlier are glassy and her cheeks are flushed. Her mouth is slightly open. He wants to bite that pretty little mouth, make it bleed red. He holds his arm out for her to take. She goes to take a step without him, disregarding his offer and almost trips over her own two feet. Littlefinger stands abruptly to help her, but Ramsay is there first. He hides his smile and grabs her hand and places it on his arm. Looking at Baelish with a piercing stare, he says:

"Don't worry, I'll make sure we get you to your room, Lady Sansa. You are under my care now and I will make sure you are attended to." Baelish looks at him and then back at Sansa. He looks like he wants to say something but smartly doesn't. He arranged this marriage and has sealed the deal on Sansa's fate. Ramsay knows Sansa will hate him for it if she doesn't already. It's apparent the older man is half in love with her. The way he watches her. Ramsay doesn't like it. She is to be his, to become a Bolton... Fuck. She won't be his in any other fashion than a plaything that will produce heirs. Reek means more to him than Sansa ever will. Plus Myranda is quite the jealous type. Maybe she will try to threaten Sansa a little to let her know her place. He sighed internally. He doesn't even care for Myranda that much. She keeps his bed warm from time to time. She's a good fuck. And she's obedient no less. She's knows if she bores him, she will become the hunted, not the hunter.

"Ramsay, why don't you try walking while you are thinking." His father's words snapped him from his internal monologue. Everyone was looking at him. He wanted to grab ahold of his father and cut his skin off for the embarrassment. He smiled again. Perhaps he would go see Reek after he dealt with Sansa.

"Of course, I just wanted to make sure Lady Sansa was steady on her feet again. Shall we go, my Lady?" She stared ahead and nodded slightly, he could see her jaw muscle working. She was irritated and having a hard time concealing it. 

As they left the dining hall and headed towards her room, he wondered what he could pry out of the little wolf in this state. Given how much wine she drank, perhaps he could manipulate her a little bit too. Get her to tell him about what Littlefinger was really planning with this marriage. They walked together silently until he was sure no one else was around. Passing a dark hallway, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into the dark. Pressing her face first against the wall with slight force, he was pleased to hear her startled gasp. He felt the muscles in her back and shoulders tense up. 

Leaning against the back of her, he put his mouth next to her ear, "So tell me, Sansa," he breathed, "What is it that causes you to so blatantly deny my company?" He felt her stiffen even further under his grasp. He knew she was afraid, he could almost smell it. His cock stirred in his breeches. The scent of fear was such an aphrodisiac to him. That and screaming. He heard her lick her lips. More blood rushing down to where it counts.

"I had too much to drink, Lord Bolton. I am sorry if I offended you. I'm afraid the trip has worn me out and I would very much like to retire to my room now." She quietly added. Her voice wasn't slurred anymore but he could detect her unease. He decided he wanted to see her face now. Turning her around roughly and pressing her back against the wall, he could see her profile glowing in the light of the candles in the adjoining hall. Her pupils were dilated. From fear or wine, he wasn't sure. He found he didn't mind looking at her. He could see faint freckles on her cheek bones. He could feel himself scowling and his temper rising. He didn't want to notice that shit. She looked at him with wide eyes. The first time he saw her facade slip and show a little underneath. He seized the opportunity.

"How do you plan to make up for it, Lady Sansa? Will you let me fuck your pretty mouth right here?Will you swallow when I finish?" He moved his right hand up from her waist to place his hand on her slender neck. He squeezed a little, watched her mouth part in an "o" shape. She quickly shut her mouth and lowered her brows and looked at him with anger. No, not anger. Rage.

"The question is, Ramsay Snow, how you will make it up to me? I hold the key to the North with my blood and my name. I refuse to let some bastard intimidate me because his father is Roose Bolton." She said icily. 

Ramsay's eyes went wide. It wasn't very often someone left him speechless. It also wasn't an occurrence for someone to purposely antagonize him. He felt his own rage bubble up. He gripped her waist hard enough to leave a bruise and applied enough pressure to her neck to cut off air flow. How. Fucking. Dare. Her. What the fuck made her think she could say that. Let alone to his face. His jaw was clenched so tight it was causing his head to hurt and his teeth to ache. He knew that if this little wolf thought for one moment that she would have the upper hand, she was sorely mistaken. He had broken bones and severed limbs for less. His insignia was the flayed man, for fuck's sake. 

Between gritted teeth, he mustered the most threatening sentence he could think of, "Think about the last Starks we kept company with. I can make their end look like a blessing compared to what I could do to you." He stared her down in a way he thought would invoke no argument.

She leaned forward, her face growing almost purple from the lack of air. "Fuck. You. Bastard." She bit out. She held his gaze and appeared to accept her impending death. He blinked. For the second time in mere moments he was struck dumb again. He waited for that rage to come back even hotter than before. Suddenly he felt lust course through him, unlike anything he had ever felt before. His skin felt like it was on fire. He loosened his grip on her throat and she took her first full gulp of air. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned forward, closing the slight distance between them and devoured her mouth. He pressed himself fully to her, feeling her body from toe to crown. His hands were everywhere on her. 

Stroking the back of her neck, he wrapped both hands around the back of her head roughly to anchor her better. He could feel her mouth try to close before he slipped his tongue in. He nipped her lips causing her to yelp and he seized the opportunity to lick her mouth. Fuck. She tasted like pure hate: dark like ambrosia and thick as wine. He cock was harder than it had ever been. Even on his hunts. That thought suddenly had him pulling back in confusion. Wrong. Move. She hauled off and slapped him hard enough for his head to kick back. Shit, she was going for a record here. No one ever hit him. Ever. Not even his father had dared to since he became a man. He looked at her. She was panting, and shaking. She was feral. Her eyes held a look that could sear the flesh off a man. Fuck he felt like he might come. 

"Ramsay! Where are you?" He could hear Myranda's voice and footsteps echo through the halls. He backed off of Sansa and stood across from her. 

"He's down here, walking me to my room." Sansa rasped. She never took her eyes off him, they were threatening in their intensity. He knew if he were to try and touch her again she would scratch his eyes out. Hell, her hands were cranked into claws as it was. He needed to get away from her before he fucked her submissive on this floor right now. Good thing Myranda had impeccable timing, he heard her round the corner. He looked over at her face and watched her eyes go from curious to baffled to angry. He waited for that lust to come back as he stared at her hardened expression. Nothing. He felt nothing like that for her. He looked at Sansa one more time and felt his cock throb painfully.

"I'm glad you remember the rest of the way to your room, Lady Sansa. I need to take care of some matters. We will continue this discussion at a later time." Ramsay sauntered towards Myranda and grabbed her wrist roughly and headed off in the direction of the nearest room with a bed. He needed to take care of that matter as soon as possible. He was going to find a way to get into that little wolf's head, but first he needed to get inside of Myranda and fuck that Stark bitch out of his own head.


	5. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa thinks about many things that lead her to this point.

Sansa stood in the dark hallway as she heard Ramsay and his lover's footsteps fade away. She was still shaking. She couldn't believe she hit him. It felt good to but she was surprised he didn't hit her back. Maybe he was smart enough to know not to hurt her visibly. Her neck ached from the pressure of his rough hand. Her boldness with him had surprised her. Her septa raised her to be a lady no matter the circumstance. She scoffed. Cersei Lannister also had a role in her upbringing so no wonder she responded with violence. 

She couldn't believe he would put his mouth on her and press himself against her like that. She could barely stand touching his arm when they walked let alone him kissing her. She gritted her teeth again. She could still taste him in her mouth. It wasn't unpleasant. Her eyebrows dropped low. Fucking bastard kissed her. She couldn't stop her hand from shakily touching her lips. She suddenly heard more footsteps coming down the hall. Not waiting to find out who it was, she steeled herself and walked back down the hallway to where her room was. She quickly darted in and went to lock it, only to find out the lock had been removed. Great, she thought, he would have unfettered access to her whenever he wanted. She could only guess he had the locked removed. Either that or Lord Bolton truly did enjoy causing the Starks misery. Sighing loudly, she figured both were true. Rather than call for a servant to help her out of her gown, Sansa had learned on the road to become adept at self reliance. After Petyr had offered to help her in and out of her dresses, she had been determined to learn the invaluable skills needed to be servant to oneself. 

After a few moments of practiced untying, shifting and moving. Sansa was down to her small clothes. She saw herself in the large mirror next to her chest on the other side of the room. She looked exhausted and thin. She went to pull back the covers on her bed and call it a night but she hesitated. Straightening up, she decided she needed a drink. Poking her head into the hallway she caught sight of a laundry maid heading down the hall. She quickly grabbed her attention and made her request. Not long after, a servant arrived with a large decanter of Dornish wine and a cup for her. Placing it on the table, the servant curtsied and left Sansa's quarters. No sooner had she left then Sansa was devouring her first cup of wine. She lost the buzz she had when Ramsay decided to live up to his calling and molest her in a dark hallway like a coward. After finishing her first cup in three long gulps, Sansa wiped the trails of wine off her chin, licked her fingers clean and suddenly noticed she got it all over her small clothes. Grumbling she decided she didn't want to sleep in them. The wine was making her feel hot anyways. Ripping the clothing over her head with less grace than she cared to think about, Sansa caught sight of herself again in that mirror. Sauntering over to the mirror, she look at her nude self. Her septa would never have approved of her leering at herself like this. It wasn't in the definition of demure or polite. 

She smiled, suddenly thinking back to a time when she argued with Arya about what it was to be a lady. Sansa had excelled at stitching and hair braiding. She was well read and always courteous. Arya? Not even a little bit. Arya behaved like a little boy. She often times chased after Bran and Rickon through the halls of Winterfell, much to their mother's dismay. She wore breeches whenever she could. She played wooden swords with Jon and Robb whenever they were near. She was fearless and stalwart. Sansa closed her eyes. She was also dead. Like the rest of her family. More wine, Sansa thought, I need more wine if I am going to think about this. She swallowed two more good sized mouthfuls and let her head roll back loosely onto her shoulders. She forgot at times how tense she kept herself around her enemies. Sometimes the mask she held in place became a part of her. She wasn't usually given a chance to relax and let herself go for a moment or two. In a few short weeks she would become Sansa Bolton. She would allow Ramsay to put his cloak around her and have her body. Rather unexpectedly, thoughts of him holding her against the wall came rushing back. He was intimidating, despite her telling him he wasn't. He was a force to be reckoned with. If she looked closely, she could see he was as angry as she was. She heard his father chastise him in the great hall they dined in. He emasculated him to ascertain his dominance over the Dreadfort. Roose Bolton wanted to remain Lord Bolton for as long as he could. Sansa knew from spending time in Kings Landing that men often wanted a true heir, not a legitimized bastard. It was only a matter of time, if it hasn't happened already, that Lady Walda would become pregnant and give him an heir. Then Ramsay would be a true bastard again, whether he retained the Bolton name or not. She smiled at the thought of his misery.

Opening her eyes she looked at her naked form in the mirror again. Despite her height, she was lithe, not bulky. She had a small tucked in waist, high breasts and a very lovely frame. Men fawned over her for as long as she could remember. Even the Hound had fallen victim to her looks and coy way of speaking. He would be proud that she told Ramsay to fuck off. He had a way with words that would make any lesser man blush. Now here she was. Had she left with him that night of the Battle of the Blackwater, she may be somewhere far from here. Like Braavos or maybe at the Wall with her half-brother Jon. She wouldn't be standing here naked in the presence of her enemies with wine as her only desired company. She was so foolish to think her life could have been a fairy tale. There were no gods and even if there were, she couldn't stand them. Their false hope they gave to people who didn't know any better. The representation that no matter what happened in the mortal life, the afterlife was so much better. That the gods were fair. Unless of course she didn't atone for her sins or committed a sin so great it landed her in hell. Her life was hell. What could they possibly do to her that would make it worse?

And of course there was Brienne of Tarth, the humongous female who looked like she could destroy an army if she were asked to. She offered to guard Sansa and to give her life for her according to some oath she swore to the late Catelyn Stark. Sansa had refused the offer, encouraged by Littlefinger's criticism of Brienne's track record for keeping those she guarded safe. All along Sansa thought had made the right choice to refuse the help and now she realized, in the darkness of night, that she was guided down a path Littlefinger had designed for her. 

Her second cup of wine was gone and now she was filling up again. She had a spare set of small clothes with her other things in the chest. She went ahead and dressed herself. She should always be aware that her door could not be locked. With Ramsay out on the prowl whenever he got done with his whore, she needed to be as protected as possible. Well, she thought dryly, I'm sure these small clothes will act as armor and inspire his chivalrous side. Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered. Because you will take the North again, her wolf growled, You will be the Queen of the North. Baring her teeth at her reflection, she thought, Yes, I will take the North again. I will destroy House Bolton and maybe even dismantle this godforsaken shithole, stone by stone. 

Swallowing the last of her third cup of wine, Sansa was feeling light again. Her worries slowly faded from mind, replaced by hazy memories of her family and Winterfell. As she curled up in bed, her last thought before she passed out from exhaustion was an icy blue stare that burned her inside out.


	6. The Pups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay thinks about his past as well.

Ramsay woke up in a foreign bed. He could sense that this wasn't his room without opening his eyes. It's didn't smell like his room. He did, however, recognize one smell. Myranda. She was laying next to him. He opened his eyes to look over at her. Her body was littered with bruises in all different stages of healing. Some yellow, some blue and black, some red welts that outlined those marks. He found that he didn't care at all. Not like it was surprising. He seldom cared about anything. He had once cared for his whore of a mother when he was barely a child but she made it abundantly clear that she didn't care for him. He watched her get fucked in the whorehouse almost everyday. She would stuff him in the closet and tell him to be quiet while she had clients. If he made a noise at all and she heard it, she would wait until the client left and she got her money, then she would fill a large basin full of cold water for him. Once he got in, she took a wire brush and scrubbed until his skin was almost completely gone. She told him over and over again that this was his father's legacy. The flayed man, she sneered. She would look at him all huddled on the ground with his skinny knees to his chin and tears falling down his cheeks, his dirty mop of wavy dark hair slightly covering his eyes. She would usually kick him or throw salt on his raw skin. She barely let him eat, telling him he was no better than a mutt on the street.

He remembered his first friend. She was a beautiful beast of a dog. Short, pointed ears, wide neck and jaw. Yellow eyes and short grey fur with a white patch on her chest. She wasn't very tall in height, but she was broadly muscled and had razor sharp teeth. She was made for killing, he remembered fondly. He watched for her every evening. She would come down the cobbled streets, usually covered in blood from whatever she had killed for food. She would come up to him as he sat on the steps of the whorehouse and nuzzle his hands, smearing the sticky combination of blood and saliva on his fingers. He wished he was a dog just like her. He could run free and answer to no one. 

One particular evening, when he was around the age of three and ten, he waited hours for her to show up. He remembered sitting on his hands and losing the feeling in his fingertips, then the palm of his hands and finally his forearms. He waited and waited for his girl to come. But tonight she didn't. He cried that night, worried that she didn't want him anymore or that something had happened to her. The next morning he went outside to empty the chamber pots from all the rooms, a job he despised, when he heard some yelping from an alley nearby. Knowing his mother was had a client, he ran in the direction towards the small sounds. Rounding the alley way, he saw his girl... Only she wasn't moving. She was covered in blood and had knife marks in her sides. He felt tears hot and fresh run down his cheeks. Crouching down beside her, he wrapped his arms around her thick neck and sobbed. Suddenly her body shifted a little and he heard the yelping again. He leaned over her body and saw four tiny grey pups, eyes closed, not even a day old. They all had white patches on their chest, like their mother. She must have given birth shortly after her mortal injuries. The cords were still attached to their small bellies and they were covered with viscera. Thinking quickly he ran back to the whorehouse and grabbed a filthy sheet from off an unoccupied bed. He darted out the door and ran back into the alley where he gently scooped up the yelping pups and headed towards the wood line. He knew he would take care of these pups better than himself. They were beautiful. He would let them grow and eat as they pleased. He counted three females and one male as he carefully pulled the umbilical cords from their stomachs and pressed the sheet against them. He built them a small shelter out of sticks and leaves and left the wadded up sheet within. Knowing enough about babes, since new ones were being born in the whorehouse all the time, he ran to the field next to the wood line and stole a pail from the farmer. He saw a cow grazing not too far from the pups and went to milk her. Once the pail had enough milk in it, he ran back to the wood line, careful not to spill any, and carefully took the pups out of their shelter. Taking a small drink from the pail, he brought each pup up to his lips and gently let the milk drip into their little mouths. Once they were full and sleeping, he tucked them back into their shelter and returned to the whorehouse. He knew he would eventually need to move them into the house before nightfall, winter was upon them. Stepping into the house, he resumed emptying the chamber pots.

"Where the fuck have you been, bastard?" His mother slurred from the doorway of her room. A male client was tucking himself back into his breeches and offered a slight smile to Ramsay as he walked past him to leave. Ramsay wanted to cut his throat and his mother's too. "I said where have you been? Looking for that mangy mutt of yours?" 

Ramsay froze where he stood, the chamber pot hanging from his tiny arms. How did she know about his girl? 

Sneering, his mother said, "I see you found it, look at that blood all over you and this hallway. That mutt wasn't good for anything. Just a distraction from your chores here. I brought you into this world, boy. I wanted to throw you in the trash. Maybe even feed you to the pigs outside. But I didn't. I kept you because of who your father is. You owe me for saving your pathetic life."

Ramsay looked at his mother now, tears in his eyes. "You killed her, didn't you." He said. It wasn't even a question at this point. 

Laughing, she said, "You're fucking right I did. It was walking down the street towards you, its tail just wagging. You're the reason it's dead, bastard. It was scaring off customers running around near the door... So I offered it some of your food and threw it into that alley. I used the knife your father left here and stabbed it until it stopped moving. Fucking beast didn't even know I was behind it." Her eyes were glittering now. She looked crazed. Ramsay felt his heart break. His poor girl died because she liked it when he petted and played with her. Suddenly the tears stopped. It was the first time he felt this rage inside of him. He stared at his mother. No, not his mother. That fucking whore. He stared at her and said nothing. He waited. He knew she would get mad that he wasn't showing his sadness. She liked it when he was upset.

"Did you hear me, bastard? I killed that whelp and left its carcass by the trash, like where you belong." She was walking towards him now, mostly stumbling because she was drunk. As she got closer, Ramsay slowly lowered his right arm that was holding the chamber pot. Soon she was standing right in front of him. She leaned down, her yellow teeth almost to eye level. She grinned widely, about to speak and that's when he struck. With everything Ramsay had, he whipped the chamber pot around and listened with stark clarity the sound it made when it connected with her face and skull. The crunch echoed loudly in the hallway. The thud of her body hitting the ground seemed so quiet in comparison. He dropped the pot.

He saw her fingers twitching and could smell the urine flooding between her legs. Stepping over her limp form, he went into their room and saw the knife she used sitting on the bed next to her pillows. He grabbed it and walked back into the hallway. He thought about just leaving her there. Let her just rot in the hallway. However, that rage inside of him was still burning bright. Standing over her body he started stabbing her with his father's knife. Over and over. Panting, he stood up. He was covered in blood at this point. He knew he couldn't stay here anymore. Soon the whores would be waking up to do their nightly duties. Plus, he didn't want his pups in this filthy environment anyways. They deserved better.

After washing the blood off of himself and gathering up his few meager belongings, he ran out the door. He had taken the rest of the money his mother had earned and shoved it into his breeches. Running towards the field, he grabbed a few flasks the farmer kept in the barn and started milking the cow again. Once they were filled up and safely stashed in his worn leather bag he had slung on his back, he quickly ran to the forest before anyone saw him. Seeing the small shelter he built for the pups, he couldn't help but smile. His whore of a mother couldn't take care of him, but he would certainly take care of these little orphans... He stopped. He was an orphan now too. Palming the smooth handle of the knife that was tucked in his waistband, he knew he was a Bolton. He knew he could flay a man without any thought... He just lacked the skill. Smiling again, he knew where he would go. It was time to meet his father.


	7. Breakfast

"Lady Sansa, wake up!" 

Sansa stirred from her slumber. The wine from the night before caused a slight grogginess. She could feel the servants scurrying around her room, gathering her dirty small clothes off the floor and collecting the empty decanter of wine. She blinked a few times. The sandy feeling scratching her eyes was what often came with drinking too much. She forgot she had woken up in the middle of the night to get more wine. Her dreams often turned to nightmares anymore. She couldn't remember the last time she had a full night's rest. She couldn't remember the last time she had been truly happy either. Grumbling slightly, Sansa sat up in bed. Instead of the sun on her cheek, like in Kings Landing, she felt the bite of the cold winter air seeping through the crack around the window. It wasn't unpleasant. Yawning, she stretched her hands toward the ceiling and felt her bones creak and pop. She wasn't old enough to creak and pop. Another thing she could thank the gods for, she thought dryly. Despite her overall lack of religion that she had adopted, she missed the Godswood outside of her home. If nothing else, it was a beautiful part of the barren North-

"My lady, Lord Bolton requests your presence this morning. He wishes to break his fast with you." One of the servants said curtly, interrupting Sansa's line of thought. Looking over at her and really focusing on her this time, she noticed this was the girl Ramsay had run off with last night. Ahh, she thought, So you're the jealous type. You can fucking have him. Maybe if Ramsay visited her more often Sansa would be spared his unwanted advances.

"However, Lady Bolton wished me to bathe you and wash that hair dye out of your red hair." The "bitch" went unspoken. Sansa smiled. She would really enjoy tormenting this one. Maybe she could cause Ramsay pain by hurting his lover. Sansa rolled her eyes inwardly. The only thing that would piss him off about that would be that he didn't get to hurt her himself. She almost felt sorry for the girl. She smiled more wickedly... No she didn't.

"What are you waiting for then? I didn't ask you to stare at me, did I? Your job is to serve me. After all, I am to be Ramsay's betrothed and future Lady of the Dreadfort." Sansa stared the girl in the eye, daring her to say otherwise. The girl's face mottled into pure hate for a moment and then vanished as quickly as it came. She didn't say anything else as she leveled a stare at Sansa, crossed her arms over her chest, and spit on the floor in insult. Sansa knew that this whore was challenging her. She needed to assert dominance and let her know that Sansa was in charge. Her demeanor changed instantly, all emotion devoid on her face. She could feel her wolf's hair standing on end, itching to bite and rip.

"Everyone else. Get. Out." The way she said it broached no argument. The maids left the room as if it was engulfed with wildfire. Sansa walked over to the girl who stepped back slightly and then squared her shoulders with her chin up. Such bravery, Sansa chided in her head. I am going to snuff it out, she thought.

"Kneel on the ground." She said suddenly. The girl looked surprised and slightly outraged by the demand. However, she lowered herself ever so slowly to the ground. Once kneeling she stared at Sansa expectantly and with a tad of arrogance. Sansa bared her teeth and said menacingly, "I want you to submit to me. I want you to lay your head at my feet." The girl looked at her and sat back on her heels, as if she was going to stand up. Sansa's reflexes suddenly sprang into action and her instinct took over. Her wolf was running the show now. She grabbed the girl by the throat and all but slammed her to the ground. A startled gasp came out of the girl's mouth. Her face turned bright red. Sansa could see the shame. She relished it. She wanted her to feel as puny and weak as she did.

"The next time I tell you to do something, whore, you should do it. I could make you scream to the gods for death." Yanking the girl off the ground slightly and towards Sansa's face, she whispered, "I know you enjoy fucking that bastard, but know that he's thinking of me while he's on top of you." The girl's eyes went wide and her skin blanched, as if she saw a ghost. Sansa let go of her and stood up. She started heading towards the tub as if nothing happened.

Yanking her small clothes over her head, she said, "What is your name? I can't very well call you Ramsay's whore in front of the Dreadfort. That just wouldn't be ladylike. And I am a lady after all." Sansa cooed sweetly. Looking over at the girl, she saw that she was shakily getting up. Her pride wounded and her face red from the impact of the floor.

"My name is Myranda." She said quietly, not looking Sansa in the eye. Sansa smiled. Dominance asserted. 

"Well, Myranda, if you won't mind helping me wash this shit brown dye out of my hair, I would be very grateful." She said lightheartedly. Myranda nodded and slowly approached Sansa and helped her get into the tub. Sinking into the warm water until it reached her chin, she sighed contentedly. 

\----------

Ramsay had left Myranda earlier to attend to his girls. The memories that came unbidden this morning unnerved him. He hadn't thought about that whore of a mother in a long time. She didn't deserve the space in his head. Sitting on his haunches now, he grabbed a hunk of meat and threw it to his beauties. The dogs descended on it and tore it to shreds, all the while growling and fighting each other for a bigger piece. He loved watching them. All that power in their muscled bodies. They were a sight to behold when they tracked down their prey on one of his prized hunts. He almost grew hard thinking about it. Suddenly his thoughts turned to Sansa, her ferocious appearance in the half-lit hallway. She was more beast than beauty in that moment and fuck all if that didn't excite him. Such a slight creature that exuded such authority even though she didn't have a single card in her deck that could save her from his wrath.

"M-Master..." Reek said weakly. Looking over towards his pet, he saw the blood pooling around Reek's thin body was getting bigger by the minute. He almost disemboweled the poor creature. Though Myranda drained his cock, it did nothing to quench the fire inside of him. He needed to maim something. Sure he made Randa cry silently after he was finished with her, but what he needed was serious damage to feel whole. Insert Reek. 

"Yes, Reek?" Ramsay said with a bored tone. He was also slightly annoyed Reek would address him before being spoken to. He had rules and he didn't like having them broken. Reek lost his pathetic little cock like that... And maybe a few fingers. Ramsay could be a kind master and a cruel one. It all depended on his mood and as of late, he was usually sour. At first he was irritated that his father would remarry, as if he needed another heir besides Ramsay. Ramsay was his first born, he should inherit the North upon his father's death. Shortly after the wedding between the fat Walda Frey and his father, Roose informed him that he would also be marrying soon. Slightly surprised at the gesture, Ramsay thanked his father for the honor and went to the kennels to contemplate his place in the world. A few weeks prior to this, he finally thought to ask who he was marrying. He would seriously offended if it was some lower woman that offered a shitty little alliance that they really didn't need. But no, that wasn't the case at all. His father was offering him the North in the form of the elusive Sansa Stark. He knew his face at the time betrayed his surprise and at that his father said cooly, "I am giving you this chance to not be a mad dog. The only way the Northerners will give us their full allegiance is if you marry the Stark girl. Should rumors stir that you are treating her poorly, we will lose all support." Leaving forward then, Lord Bolton had eyed Ramsay down. "If you do something to her that compromises our hold on the North, you will become a Snow again and I will turn your precious Reek into fodder and feed him to you." Ramsay was brought back to the present by more pathetic whimpering from Reek. Looking over at his pet, he decided he needed to go back and have a Maester come out to attend to the creature. Plus he had important things to discuss with his father. He knew the key was to marry Sansa as soon as possible. Their strength would grow against the Lannisters, unbeknownst to the lions, and soon they would ride south to demolish those pansy ass fucks and take all of Westeros. 

Standing now, he whistled for his girls. They turned towards him immediately. He loved their obedience. Opening the latches again, the dogs filed in line and went to their respective cages. They knew their place with him and he with them. He was the alpha. Again his mind drifted to his little wolf. He needed to show her he was her alpha too. Part of him relished the fight in her. He grew bored easily with females who always submitted with not much of a fight. He knew Randa would fight against him lightly to please him. But Sansa fought against him in earnest. She despised him and wanted him to know it. Closing the last cage door, Ramsay found himself smiling. That angered him. He didn't want to smile when he thought about Sansa. It wasn't in his nature to have a fondness for something that didn't involve violence other than his girls out here. Wiping the smile off his face, he replaced it with his cool mask of indifference. The guise he wore most of the time to keep his subordinates on edge. He didn't want them to know his true emotions. And right now, his emotions were drifting to a place he didn't recognize. He found himself confused as soon as the little wolf stepped foot in the Dreadfort. Ramsay was many things, but confused wasn't one of them. She made him feel things that weren't centered around violence. The lust that drove him around her almost rivaled that of his lust of hurting Reek. 

Fuck this, he thought turning and leaving the kennels. He went inside the great hall and down a corridor towards the bowels of the Dreadfort where the Maester resided. With all the damage he had done to Reek over the years, it was surprising that the Maester just didn't move into the fucking kennels. Probably because he was afraid of Ramsay's girls... As he should be. One wrong move from that false academic and Ramsay would let his girls tear him apart.

"Maester Thorne." Ramsay addressed the small bald man in the black robing with boredom. "My pet requires your attention. As always, no milk of the poppy or any form of pain relief. Just fix him and leave him." Maester Thorne, as per fucking usual, was silent as stone and graciously bowed to Ramsay. Not waiting for anything else, Ramsay turned on heel to head back to the great hall. He assumed his father would be sitting down shortly to break his fast. Plus Ramsay could feel his stomach growling slightly. Sessions with Reek usually fueled his hunger. Ramsay wasn't wrong. His father was a creature of habit. 

Sitting at the head of the table, Roose Bolton was reading a few scrolls delivered by the ravens this morning. Ramsay came to sit to his left and waited to be addressed. Sighing internally, he supposed he was becoming a part of his father's routine. Well didn't that damper the mood. Breaking the silence because he felt he would explode otherwise, "So what of the world?" He asked pouring himself some wine. Roose didn't even acknowledge his presence, let alone his question. Taking a long drink of wine, Ramsay started drumming his fingers on the table loudly. If he couldn't get his father's attention with a question, he would certainly get it by annoying him. Taking out his dagger, he starting twirling it around, making grand movements designed to attract the eye.

"You have the patience of a greenboy." His father commented dryly, still not looking at Ramsay. Ramsay smiled in spite of himself. People were so easy to manipulate. "What is it you want, Ramsay?" He father continued on in a bored tone. Ramsay kept twirling his knife and drumming his fingers. Now he would make Roose wait for his reply. His father noticed. He sighed loudly and set the scrolls aside, now fully looking at Ramsay. "What." It wasn't a question anymore.

"When am I to marry Sansa?" He asked casually. 

"Next week." Came the clipped reply. Caught off guard, Ramsay stopped the knife in mid twirl, his fingers stilling on the table. His head whipped around to Lord Bolton. "Going by your dumbfounded look, I am to assume you thought I would wait a fortnight?" Roose commented dryly.

Ramsay smiled now incredulously, "Well yes, that's the usual custom isn't it? Not that I am particularly well versed on these things." His humor dissipated slightly. He could fuck his little wolf sooner than he thought. Cue his blood flowing down to where it didn't need to go currently. He needed all the blood going to his brain to comprehend this shit.

"The sooner you bed the Stark girl and impregnate her, the sooner she will give you an heir. Unlike your unfortunate upbringing, heirs are rather important for one's legacy." Ramsay could feel the sarcasm rolling of his father at this point. Of course he knew that was the point of the marriage. It angered him when his father treated him like an idiot. But that was the game they played. 

Hearing soft footsteps and catching a fillip mad of red, Ramsay's head whipped around again, but this time towards the entrance to the hall from the back of the Dreadfort as he and his father stood so they could follow that stupid line of etiquette when it came to a lady. But holy shit... Sansa. Holy fuck, he thought again. The hair dye was gone, her fiery red mane was on full display. If he thought she was beautiful before, he was blind. This was radiance- Ramsay stopped himself. Why the fuck was he thinking about this. He needed to focus on more important things, like why Littlefinger arranged this marriage in the first goddamned place. Speaking of the little weasel, following closely behind Sansa was Lord Baelish. He looked quite happy with himself, as if she was a gift being given to them. He gently placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to her chair. Ramsay gritted his teeth. She was his. She always was. She didn't need that little fucker guiding her around like an invalid. She was sharper than she seemed and stronger and- 

What. The. Fuck. His head screamed. He blinked like an idiot. Fuck her. She didn't matter. He could feel his mood darkening considerably. He didn't want to address the thoughts in his head so he shoved them to the back of his mind. Sansa looked over at him impassively as she sat down. Her eyes flicked lower and her eyes widened considerably and then she guarded her face. She then looked back up at him, a slight look of disgust and quirked her eyebrow at him, mocking him. Following her gaze he looked down and noticed his dick was making itself known. Despite the fact he was short for a man, Ramsay had the cock of a horse. Ever since he was young, women who had seen him naked gasped audibly and gawked at his member. They usually flocked to him because of it... Then they got to know him and ran in the other direction. He was quite proud of his cock, it was ferocious like he was. But right now, he wished it would shrivel up so he didn't have to deal with it. Also, his hand was still wrapped around his knife until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't afford to look like anything other than the predator he was around her. She was ever observant and a true wolf in every sense of the word. She would attack anything she thought to be a weakness and exploit it. His dick twitched at the thought. Goddamnit.

"Good morning, Lady Sansa. Lord Baelish." Roose acknowledged. "I hope you both slept well and didn't freeze too much in this weather. It seems to get colder every night." Indicating his hand at the table. "Please sit. The cooks have prepared a nice meal for us." It was unlike Lord Bolton to be so hospitable, but Ramsay wasn't complaining. Dropping down into his seat as quickly as possible and with no grace, he felt his cock get pinched between his leg and breeches. Serves the damn thing right, Ramsay thought sourly. This was not the morning he expected. He had anticipated talking to his father about the marriage timeframe and some other tactical strategies about regarding Stannis Baratheon traveling north to the Wall. The irony of critiquing his father's routine didn't escape him either. Sansa daintily sat down across from him, now avoiding his gaze again. Her cheeks looked slightly pink but it was chilly in the great hall. Certainly his little wolf wasn't embarrassed by what she saw. He may have to test that theory later. 

"Thank you, Lord Bolton. We slept quite well I believe. Perhaps after this we could discuss some points of the marriage?" Ramsay noticed that whenever Baelish spoke, it was like the words themselves were oily. A snake slithering through the air. Glancing back over at Sansa, she was clenching her jaw again. Clearly she wasn't in the mood for Littlefinger's shit either.

Watching her barely eat her food pissed him off. She was thin as it is, she didn't need to waste away. He needed her body in child rearing shape. Also watching her down her second cup of wine within fifteen minutes did nothing to improve his mood. The wolf definitely had a crux. He supposed she had developed it around all of the monarchy in Kings Landing. The lions loved their wine almost as much as their gold. Well, he thought, it was time to start his games with her. His first attempt backfired on him but he didn't intend for that to happen again. He needed her in fighting form as well if she was going to survive him.


	8. The Kennel

After breaking her fast with Lord Bolton, Littlefinger and Ramsay, Sansa made her way outside. She felt the air was too hot inside the Dreadfort currently. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Ramsay's bulge in his pants. She had seen evidence of men's desire before but nothing like that. She almost felt nauseous thinking about her wedding night. She assumed it would be painful as that was what her septa had told her years ago... But she didn't think this was what Septa Mordane meant when she talked about it. She shuddered. Maybe she should have befriended Myranda, let her deal with the brunt of Ramsay's manhood. No, Sansa thought, that bitch had it coming to her. No one disrespects me in the North. The North is mine. 

"Lady Sansa." Littlefinger had walked up beside her. She hadn't even noticed. She needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. Ramsay's... Cock... Was the last thing she needed on her mind. Or in her body, her nerves pointed out. 

"Hello, Lord Baelish." She replied politely, clearing her mind. She stayed quiet, she assumed he would cryptically motion for them to walk and talk about something he didn't want anyone to hear about.

"If you could follow me, I would like to take a walk around and explore the Dreadfort. I haven't been here before and perhaps you could be my guide." He said. Trying not to sigh or show her utter disgust for him and his weaselly nature, she plastered her mask on and smiled. 

"Of course. A lot has changed since I was here last but I could use the time to enjoy the air. I have found it's a little warm inside." Littlefinger looked at her curiously. Keeping her smile in place, she starting walking towards the kennels. She had heard the dogs barking this morning before breakfast. She always loved dogs. She felt a sudden pang in her chest. Lady. Lady certainly wasn't a dog but she was sweet. Sansa missed her dearly. Another family member that was no longer with her. Maybe she could have a pet dog here to keep her company. She talked to Lady like she was a person and could understand what Sansa was saying. Approaching the door, Sansa could hear the dogs pacing and snarling at each other. She opened the door and stepped inside; Littlefinger was quick to follow. Letting her eyes adjust to the dark interior she could see each pin had its respective dog in it. One of the pins had a small wooden enclosure in it, perhaps they kept puppies in there or something.

"Sansa..." Littlefinger stood in front of her and placed his clammy hand on the back of Sansa's neck. She wanted to vomit again. Unwanted male advances seems to be a daily occurrence for her ever since she left Winterfell. She wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth. 

"Yes, Lord Baelish?" She inquired politely. 

"You know I set this marriage up so you would have an opportunity to avenge your family. You could have a real fighting chance at taking back the North." He spoke to her slowly and meaningfully. She was frustrated by it. Of course she knew that, she certainly wasn't marrying Ramsay for love. Or any other reason for that matter. "I want you to know that it kills me to leave you here. Surrounded by your enemies and me far away, unable to protect you." Now she was really going to throw up. Whether he wanted to see it or not, he was her enemy. His plan for her all along was to secure alliances with the Boltons so he could use them to overthrow the Lannisters and take his share of the wealth. She mentally rolled her eyes. And women were supposed to be the dumber sex.

Keeping her face neutral as always, "I will be fine. I am a Stark. We own the North no matter who occupies the Dreadfort." For once she told him the absolute truth. She would be fine. She did own the North. She just needed a plan. No longer able to stand the contact with him, she broke away and walked over to a cage containing a beautiful grey dog that had its back to her. It had small pointed ears and was well muscled. She whistled for the dog and crouched low to the ground, hand outstretched between the bars. The beast of a dog turned around and looked at her. Its yellow eyes piercing her. It had a white patch on its chest as well. It was the most beautiful dog she had ever seen. The dog turned towards her fully. She could see the hair raised on its back as it approached her. She had a moments hesitation but she refused to drop her gaze from the animals yellow stare. She felt like she was being sucked in by it. Ever so slowly the animal finally stood in front of her. Its upper lip twitched revealing sharp canines and dripping saliva. Still she stared.

"... Sansa, perhaps you should stand up and come back this way..." Littlefinger said, walking towards her. The dog's eyes noticed Lord Baelish for the first time. The menacing growl that came out of the beast was fearsome. It stopped him in his tracks. Sansa smiled at the animal. She liked this creature already. Turning its gaze back to Sansa, it slowly sniffed her outstretched fingers. The dog suddenly leaned forward and rubbed its muzzle and head against her hand, letting her pet it. She smiled big, threading her other hand through the bars to scratch the beast's chest. The short grey coat was soft to the touch. The animal was well cared for. She would need to speak to the kennel master if she wanted to keep this dog-

"Lord Baelish." She hears Ramsay's voice. "What are you doing in-" When he didn't finish his sentence, Sansa looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were wide. He looked like a statue. Frozen and unmoving. 

"Lady Sansa and I were just about to leave." Littlefinger replied to the unfinished question. That seemed to snap Ramsay out of his trance. He gaze shifted back to Littlefinger. 

"Could you give Lady Sansa and I some privacy? I would like to show her more of the Dreadfort. She is my betrothed after all." The look Ramsay gave Littlefinger reminded her of the look she gave Myranda earlier. 

"Of course... I will go speak to Lord Bolton about the arrangements for the wedding next week, I think I forget to mention a few things..." He trailed off as he realized Ramsay wasn't listening anymore. He was staring at her again. Littlefinger walked quietly past Ramsay and out the door. What a coward. He was just waxing on about how he would protect her. Expecting some kind of admonishment for touching the dogs, she sighed and stood up. The dog jumped up on the cage are tried to lick her through the bars. She turned her head and smiled at it. She also scratched its muzzle a little. She had a weak spot for animals. Turning back around she jumped and stepped backwards slightly, her hand still on the cage. Ramsay was standing right in front of her. She hadn't even heard him move. His eyes were stormy and hard to read. He looked like he was mad. She hoped he stayed that way. He then looked over at the dog and she saw his gaze soften. He reached past her to gently pet the dog's head.

"I see you've met my girls." He said quietly.

Without thinking she said, "Yes, I've met all your dogs. Myranda included." She sounded more bitter than she liked. It didn't matter to her that he had a whore. He noticed and looked somewhat surprised. Then his face darkened.

"Did she hurt you?" He asked. Sansa suddenly burst out laughing as the image of Myranda pressed to the floor beneath her came into mind. It was uncharacteristic for her to laugh anymore and especially in front of a Bolton, but she couldn't help herself.

"No." She said smugly after her little outburst. "I think I did more damage to her than she could ever do to me." Ramsay studied her face for a moment. He was looking at her like he had never seen her before. Which was almost true. As of yesterday, he hadn't. She was hoping to see anger in his face that she had hurt his whore, but he just kept looking at her while he absently stroked the beast's soft fur. Speaking of said beast, she felt the dog's toenail lightly graze her hand. Not breaking eye contact, she gently started rubbing the dog's face again. Over the ears and back down. Over and over. She did this while they just stared at each other. Her small hand suddenly grazed Ramsay's large hand. She looked over at the dog. That yellow stare looking at her still. She felt Ramsay move. Looking back at him she noticed his other hand was hovering next to her face. He was going to hit her, she thought. Good. She didn't want to feel safe right now. She wanted a reminder of why she hated him and his father. But the hit never came. Instead he gently clasped her chin and looked deeply in her eyes. She felt panicked. She didn't understand this. It made her mad.

"Let go of me, bastard." She said softly, she meant to have more steel in her voice, but it came out almost breathy. He noticed. His eyes left hers and wandered down to her mouth. No, she thought. I want you to hit me. Not kiss me. She involuntarily licked her lips. Shit. Why the hell did she do that? Suddenly Ramsay let her go. She almost tumbled forward. She didn't realize she was leaning towards him. She quickly put her mask back in place and looked at him indifferently again. 

"I want this dog. It appears to like me and wants to be around me. If I am to live here I need more company than a bastard and his brooding father." She said in a demanding tone. She dropped her hand from cage and straightened herself. She was almost taller than Ramsay. They were essentially the same height, but she wanted to feel superior than him. He was still looking at the damn dog.

"No." Was all she got in reply. 

"Fine." She gritted out. "But I want you to stay away from me. Neither of us like each other and the only reason we are to be married is to make heirs." She saw his eyes as they flicked back to her again. She noticed the predatory gleam again. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him for effect. Slowly turning around he sauntered closer to her.

"What makes you think I don't like you?" He asked smoothly. "Judging by your face this morning, you saw how much I like you." The last part was sneered at her. Don't be embarrassed, don't be embarrassed, she chanted in her head. Well, shit. She could feel her cheeks were getting hot.

"Oh, yes," he continued, grabbing her hand and placing it over top his breeches above his cock, which was growing by the second, "I like you quite well. Your tongue could use some discipline and I'm quite sure most ladies don't slap their future husbands across the face, but you'll do nicely." She could feel everything under his breeches. It felt even larger than it appeared earlier. She swallowed thickly. He could fuck her right here and she wouldn't be able to stop him... Fuck that, her wolf growled at her, You will fight him until he's dead or you are. She stared at him for half a moment, then grabbed his anatomy. Hard. His mouth snapped shut and she saw him clench his jaw tightly. She could see the veins standing out in his neck and could hear his teeth grinding. His grip on her wrist tightened and she responded by increasing hers.

She got close to his face, "You will keep your distance from me. We will fuck when we have to and no more. As soon as I am pregnant, you will no longer touch me. You want relief? Go find your whore. You want companionship? Come out here to your dogs. I don't want anything to do with you, bastard." She said all of this with an even tone and made sure he got the point by squeezing his man parts a little harder-

"Sansa....?" She heard a croak from over in the corner. Releasing Ramsay she turned around to see who addressed her. She almost felt her legs give out when she saw Theon... Or what was once Theon. He was a tattered mess. Scraggy hair. Unshaven. Dirty. And was he missing fingers? "Sansa." He said again, wheezing slightly but sounding relieved. She finally noticed the bandages wrapped around his body. Dark red and yellow staining them. Suddenly all she could see was red. This creature turned his back on her family and betrayed them. Killed her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. She flew over to him and ripped the cage door open. She started pummeling him with her fists. Hitting the darkest red spots on his bandages while he yelped and cried out to her. She didn't care, she was going to fucking kill him- 

Suddenly she was ripped off of Theon from behind, strong arms held her around the waist while she fought. She clawed and kicked. Making a few good hits, if the grunts were anything to go by. She threw her head back and made a satisfying connection with a face. Then she was slammed onto the ground, straight on her back. It knocked the breath out of her. Icy blue eyes were in her line of sight as she gasped for air. He suddenly was laying on top of her as well. She noticed with satisfaction that his lip was bleeding from her head butting him. He was panting too. Wait, she thought, why did he have Theon? 

As if he heard her thought, "That was Reek you just attacked. He's my pet as well. All of those scars and missing appendages you see are because he displeases me from time to time. Much like he did just now by talking to you without my permission." He looked over at "Reek" who cowered away from him and stared at the ground. She could see tears on his face. Her head whipped around to Ramsay.

"You did this to Theon?" She asked.

"Reek. And yes I did." He stared down at her again, he seemed to be expecting her to attack him again. Instead she did something she never thought she was capable of.

"Thank you." She said quietly. She was limp underneath him now, all the fight leaving her body. Ramsay looked surprised for a moment but then he just looked at her blankly. Slowly he lowered himself closer to her face. When she didn't turn away, he pressed his lips against hers softly. She was staring in his eyes as he moved his mouth over hers. She felt him score her lip a little bit with his teeth. She gasped against him, her mouth opening. She felt his warm tongue slide into her mouth. It felt like velvet. Her eyes closed. Tentatively she licked back at him. He moaned deep in his throat and pressed his lower body roughly against her, his cock pressing against her belly. Then she felt it. Her body was warming and her sex felt wet. Her eyes snapped open. No. No. No. She thought. These people killed your family and he's going to rape you on your wedding night. He will make you have children you don't want and be subservient to the person who murdered your mother and eldest brother. Ramsay's hips started rubbing lower as he shifted himself aggressively over her. His cock made contact with her upper sex. She couldn't stop herself from gasping and arching into him. Suddenly she felt her wolf inside her, the creature staring at her curiously. It wasn't chiding at her to attack or to run away. It just watched her. She felt her lungs start to burn from lack of oxygen. Ramsay was consuming her. Suddenly he lifted up and looked down at her. 

"Why aren't you hitting me for this." He asked quietly. She didn't have a response to that. Neither of them wanted this... Did they? She saw Ramsay's face darken, his jaw clenching. Suddenly he was off of her and walking towards the door. Yanking it open and not looking at her, he said icily, "Get the fuck out of here and don't come back. If I catch you in here again, I will skin you alive like they skinned your dead brother's dire wolf." She sat up, dumbfounded for a moment. He didn't get to be mad. He was assaulting her, not the other way around. "Get. Out!" He roared suddenly. She jolted up and ran out of there past him. She ran all the way back inside. She was out of breath by the time she reached her room. Slamming the door shut behind her, she noticed the servants placed another decanter of wine on the table. She didn't even bother with a cup this time. She wanted to wash the bastard out of her mouth. She was tipping the decanter up and up and up. After a few moments, there was nothing left. Ripping her clothing off as fast as she could. She went to the tub that was still full of water from this morning, though it now undoubtedly cold. She stepped into the water and clenched her teeth. It was freezing. Fuck it, she thought. Holding her breath and she slowly descended into the water all the way. She was shaking uncontrollably. Nevertheless she lathered up the soap on the wash rag, grabbed the scrubbing stone and started scrubbing her skin roughly. She kept going over and over herself. 

"Lady Sansa!" The servant gasped. She thought the girl's name was Millie or something like that. The blonde girl rushed over to Sansa and grabbed the wash cloth from her. Sansa was pissed she wasn't allowed to take a bath alone without someone interrupt- She felt warmth drip down her elbow. Looking down she saw blood flowing into the water. Apparently she had scrubbed herself so hard that she took her skin off in some places. She finally felt the sting as Millie wrapped her arm in a dry towel. "We need to get you to Maester Thorne." She said, worry creasing her brow. It was evident she thought Sansa was trying to hurt herself on purpose. Hell, maybe she was. She kissed him. She kissed Ramsay and was... Aroused by him. She hated herself more than she could ever hate Roose Bolton right now. She was betraying her family. Millie lead her over to the bed and started patting her dry with another towel as Sansa held her arm in the other. Well, she thought, this wasn't the morning she expected at all.


	9. Theon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter. Still forming all of this - enjoy !

Ramsay was practically shaking with rage when Sansa flew past him. He wanted to break her pretty little bones in her face when she stared up at him like that. Her Tully blue eyes wide and her face flushed. Her lips swollen from him kissing her. When he leaned down to kiss her when he was on top of her, he wanted to take control and show her that he could have whatever he wanted. He wanted her to fight him. Yet she didn't. She had actually licked at him. He almost stopped kissing her when felt her tongue slide against his own. It was decadent. She was so soft and pliable. He didn't want his little wolf to act like that. He wanted her hard edges and bitter remarks. He wanted her to fight like his dogs did. Fuck. The way she was petting his girl, Aleyne, stopped him dead in his tracks. Aleyne was the last pup he had from his beloved little friend from his childhood. The rest of the pups had been killed over the years from various things. She was by far the fiercest dog he had. She often killed other, weaker dogs to assert dominance. Yet there Sansa was. Rubbing Aleyne's head with such care. He didn't know how he felt about that. He watched that dog rip females apart over the years from his hunts. Part worry, part wonderment. The worry came from selfish reasons. Like what if the dog ripped her arm off and he had to explain to his father that for once it was unintentional. It had nothing to do with the idea that he was concerned for her well being. Not even a little bit, he thought sternly, frowning nonetheless.

Aleyne was staring over at him, he could feel her yellow eyes piercing him. It was like she knew he was struggling internally. His entire life has revolved around his father's whims. Now he was feeling something else. He felt a need to please Sansa or he felt a need to hurt her. Probably both and probably at the same time. Usually he reacted without care for consequence. If he wanted to maim a female for disobedience, then he would. Now he hesitates. Fuck, it's barely been a day and she flipped his goddamned world around. He hated her. He certainly wasn't going to stay away from her because she asked him to. He was going to stay away from her so that he didn't have to see her or deal with her. A thought suddenly came to his head. What did she mean by her doing damage to Myranda? Why should she care if he fucked her or not? She told him to leave her alone unless they were trying to conceive... Maybe he would fuck Myranda right in front of her. He smiled wickedly. Yes. He would definitely do that. The ultimate insult to his dear wife.

His thoughts suddenly took a different direction and raced to when he saw Littlefinger follow Sansa into the kennels. It pissed him off to no end to think that little weasel was around his girls. He had half a mind to unlock the cages and let his girls tear Baelish apart. Before he even opened the door he saw Littlefinger touch Sansa around the back of the neck. He remembered the feeling the swirled around in his gut. He would kill Baelish for touching her like that. It was so... Loving. Tearing his gaze away from that scene he stared at his feet and imagined himself touching her like that. It didn't seem natural. For either of them to assume that pose together. They were more suited for scratches and biting. He and his little wolf were very similar, more than she would ever admit. He saw it in her. Hearing movement, he closed his eyes. If he saw her return the gesture to Baelish, he would rip them both apart. Bracing himself as if he were going to battle, he ripped the door open, already asking Littlefinger what he was doing when he was caught off guard. There she was. All red mane and soft feminine form. Crouched next to his favorite girl. Petting her, cherishing her. Later asking him for her. He didn't feel lust. He didn't feel anger. He felt... Something more potent than either of those things. A hollowness that existed inside of him since he was a child suddenly filled to the point he knew for once he was whole feeling. No amount of violence or sex had ever made him feel a fraction of what he felt in that moment. 

Baelish had started to go off about he and Sansa leaving together. Ramsay decided he didn't want her to go yet, she was looking over her shoulder at him. She looked... Lovely. Was that the word? He didn't think there was a spoken word for her at times. She was an enigma in his life. He dismissed Littlefinger with a story about he and Sansa walking together and getting to know one another. He almost wished they were. He thought maybe he would enjoy that. Watching her stand, he couldn't stop himself from being right in front of her. He almost needed to share in the affection. He wanted Sansa to touch him like she was touching Aleyne. He was so confused. He had grown up with no soft touches. Had turned into a man with no soft touches. He didn't need them... But for once, he suddenly wanted them. He felt as if he was losing his mind. Like he was suddenly two halves. When she jumped back from him, instead of his usual delight, he felt bereft. After exchanging a few words with her, he felt their fingers touch and he wanted her. He looked at her face, brought his hand up and let it hover next to her regal cheekbones. She looked so soft. 

Rubbing his eyes as he sat in the present, he needed to get away from her. Every time he thought about it, it seemed like the correct thing to do... But when he was in her presence? Fuck all if he could manage it. He was determined to stay away. Suddenly having an idea, he looked over at Reek who was forgotten during his and Sansa's... Whatever the fuck it was. He smiled sweetly at his little pet. As if Reek could tell what Ramsay was thinking, he practically melted into the cold floor of his cage, shaking in fear. He had learned from his time with Ramsay that a smile usually meant pain... Well everything meant pain really, Ramsay thought smugly. There were many catalysts that caused him to beat or maim Reek. Usually for the fun of it. But right now he need to use a different strategy. He saw how Sansa had hurled herself at Reek, she attacked him like her life depended on it. She hit all the bloody spots above Reek's stab wounds, the most painful points for him currently. It made Ramsay hard to think about it. No, he thought. This is why he had to react differently around Reek when Sansa was near. He needed Reek to pretend he was Theon Greyjoy again. He would clean his pet up and let him dine with them at the table. He would give him a room next to Sansa's, so she would have to sleep near him and pass him in the corridors when she left her room. 

Feeling his rage envelop him like a warm hug, he smiled wickedly. His eyes piercing right through Reek who was crying quietly now, still pressed face first to the floor. Ramsay could tell by the way his bony shoulders shook slightly that his pet was frightened. He loved watching him squirm and shrink under his stare. This would be fun. He would get to watch Sansa struggle with her anger and hate. Then, on their wedding night, he would fuck her hard enough so that Reek could hear her screams. He would be punishing them both. Also, he would get an heir to raise. Slowly turning around, he gently shut the door to the kennels. He needed to get Reek cleaned up and dressed. This process would begin now until she couldn't bear it anymore. Turning around again, he stalked towards a sobbing Reek. Well, well, he thought, perhaps this wasn't so bad after all.


	10. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was interesting to write. I am not a huge fan of rushing a story but for some reason this chapter seemed pivotal in their "relationship." I want to focus heavily on the dynamic that is evolving here. As always, enjoy !!

The next week went by smoothly considering the company she was forced to keep and the fact that the wedding was two days from now. Littlefinger left a few days ago, thankfully. She hated him lurking around all the time. It wasn't as if she overly enjoyed being surrounded by her enemies all the time. Speaking of, she hadn't seen Ramsay outside of their meals this entire week, which was a blessing. After her trip to the Maester the day after she arrived, she really needed the break from him. She knew Ramsay would try to mess with her head and cause her to show her fears. She just never knew her fears would be touching and kissing him and enjoying it. She waited to feel the disgust when she ran the kennel scenario through her head. Every time she did, she felt slight disgust because of her family but wetness between her legs because of him. 

She scowled at her needlework. She spent most of her days either sewing, unfortunately entertaining Lady Walda, or walking outside of the Dreadfort. She avoided the kennels at all cost. As much as she wanted to go in and take the beautiful grey dog out of that cage, she was too afraid Ramsay would show up again. Not that she was afraid of him. She just hated being around him, she told herself. She really wished he was ugly sometimes. Joffrey had been decent looking but nothing compared to Ramsay. His ice blue stare, his square jawline, his muscled body... That frightening bulge in his breeches. All of it fascinated her. When he wasn't sneering and she saw him smile at his dogs, he was breathtaking. His genuine smile was... Something. Feeling his hard body against her wasn't completely unpleasant. She felt things she thought she wouldn't ever feel. She had many plans when she came back to the North, and arousal wasn't one of them. Despite the fact she didn't want to marry Ramsay or give him Bolton heirs, she knew she should make something for her wedding day. Something her mother and father would appreciate. The last thing she will wear as a Stark should represent her family and their legacy.

Pushing the needle roughly through the fabric, she felt it pierce her skin. Almost crying out, she set her work down and pulled the needle from her fingertip. She watched the blood well and start to drop over. Sighing, she stuck the bleeding finger in her mouth and sucked on it. Even her needlework was physically harming her now. 

"Lady Sansa." She stiffened and looked over at the door that she didn't hear open. Ramsay stood there, a small disingenuine smile on his face. Then his eyes flicked down to the finger she was nursing in her mouth. She thought she saw his cheeks flush a little but perhaps that was her imagination. Ramsay had seen plenty of wounds over his life. She hardly doubted he couldn't stand the sight of blood. Eyes snapping back up to hers, he said, "I have a gift for you, my wife to be." It was said with an almost sickeningly sweet tone. She pulled the finger from her mouth and examined it briefly. 

"Unless your gift is that beautiful dog in the kennels, you can keep it." She said succinctly. She looked back up at him with a bored expression, picked up her needlework and resumed. Her acts were basically a dismissal. She could feel him approaching her instead of leaving. She could see his feet in her line of view now. She resisted looking up at him, she didn't want him to think she cared what he did. Because you don't, she thought quickly. Her wolf lifted its head and sighed. She saw a hand come into her line of vision. It didn't stay there long as it grasped her chin roughly and forced her to look at him. 

"I will say this once: when I ask you to go somewhere, you go. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Failure to comply with this will result in a rather unpleasant encounter." His voice dropped with threat. She raised her eyebrow at him and grabbed his wrist.

"If you're going to threaten me, dear husband to be, try to make it worth my while. Unpleasant is the word I would use to describe every encounter with you and your dreadful family." She removed her chin from his grasp, pushed his hand away and started her needlework again. Dismissing him, again. Said needlework was grabbed from her hands and thrown to the ground. Big hands grabbed her arms and yanked her out of her chair. Before she could so much as scream, he threw her on her bed and jumped on top of her, yanking her hands above her head and wedging his thigh between hers.

"If I wanted to make an heir right now by fucking you until you bleed, I will." He said menacingly, hovering mere inches from her face. The pressure on her was intense but she refused to let him have the satisfaction of knowing she was uncomfortable.

"Well, you could do that." She said staring up at him, her lip curled up much like a snarl. "I would love the opportunity for our marriage to be null and void and any child from this to be a bastard just like its sire. That way when I cast it out, no one will blame me. I imagine that's probably what your mother did too." She barely got the words out when he reared back and slapped her. Hard. She could taste blood, could feel it filling her mouth up

"I could cut your tongue out for that." He was shaking on top of her. His eyes were frightening in their intensity. She struck a nerve. So obviously the impenetrable Ramsay Bolton had a weakness. "Go ahead, dear, say something else to me." He practically growled the last part. Looking at him, she did the one thing she could think of. She spit the blood all over his face. 

"Fuck you." Was all she said. Ramsay's face was covered in blood. It dripped out of his hair and ran down his face. His eyes were the widest she had seen them. The look of surprise almost made her laugh had he not hit her a second ago. His mouth suddenly opened slightly, his breath rushing in and out like he had run leagues.

"Fuck, Sansa." He groaned suddenly and took her mouth aggressively. His grip on her wrists squeezed almost to the point of pain and then her right hand was free as he reached between them to grab her breast. She gasped as he toyed with her nipple through the coarse fabric, causing it to harden. Her right hand grabbed a handful of hair at his nape and pulled hard. He didn't budge at all but moaned appreciatively. Trying to squirm away from him this time just cause him to put his massive erection at the apex of her thighs and grind. Hard. The breath exploded out of her lungs and she pulled her mouth free from his finally to gasp for air. She was suddenly sweating as the pressure between her legs amplified. Looking at Ramsay with wide eyes, she noticed some of her blood was smeared around his mouth. Letting go of his hair, she touched around her mouth and saw blood on her fingertips. Her blood. Her core bloomed. The wetness now soaking into her small clothes and skirts. Fuck this. She thought. She could lay with him and not care. She hated him. But she could use him for the time being. It's not like he wouldn't be doing this very thing on their wedding night two days from now.

Making her decision, she slapped Ramsay hard. And didn't let him think about it as her mouth took his. She licked and bit at him. After a moment he devoured her back. He was no longer stunned by her smarting his face for the second time since meeting him. They squeezed and bit each other ferociously. Ramsay, getting impatient, wrenched Sansa's skirts above her knees and then started fumbling with his breeches. She gasped as she felt his hard cock against her leg. Fuck, it was massive and hot. It almost felt like it was scalding her leg. Trepidation hit her hard. She had to let the Maester look at her tomorrow to verify her maidenhead to be intact. 

"Ramsay..." She closed her eyes and moaned slightly as he started licking and nipping at her neck. Her moment of hesitation now forgotten. She spread her legs wide and felt him nudge his huge cock at her slick entrance. Groaning he reached down to grasp himself and line up with her-

"M-Master?" Snapping her eyes open as she heard Theon's voice, she looked over Ramsay's shoulder at the door she saw him standing there. He was clean shaven, hair trimmed, wearing a nice tunic and breeches. He bore the flayed man on the chest of his tunic. He looked healthier too... It suddenly dawned on her. Her present. He fucking cleaned that murderer up to give to her. Turning her head, she looked at Ramsay. He was looking at Theon and then he looked to her. She felt her chin quiver for just a moment, she would not cry. She was a Stark goddamn it. Ramsay gently touched her thigh, it almost felt like an apology. 

"Please get off of me." She said quietly, not looking at him anymore.

"Sansa-" he started.

"Thank you for your gift, Ramsay. I am feeling quite tired now and would like to rest." She said, actually feeling more tired now than she ever had. She was proud that she kept her chin up and didn't show any weakness. The wolf howled miserably and then started snarling, pawing the ground. Ramsay finally sat up on the bed, tucking himself back into his breeches. She moved off the bed like it was on fire, yanking her skirts back to down and grabbing a towel to get the blood off her face. She felt shame for what had happened between them. He almost took her maidenhead... And the worst part is that she almost let him. She pledged to herself then and there that she would not let him have her so easily. She would fight him tooth and nail on their wedding night and the North would hear her battle cry. 

Realizing he was still staring at her, she stared at the floor and cleared her throat , "Please go. Take Theo- Reek. Take Reek with you. I am going to lie down now." Looking up she saw him standing in front of her. He looked like he wanted to touch her again, even raised his hand to do so. She walked past him and Reek and left the room instead. She walked slowly down the hall at first and then a little faster and then she started running as fast as she could. Rounding a corner she ran flat into Roose Bolton, almost getting thrown backwards. Lord Bolton's hand snapped out and grabbed Sansa's arm, preventing her from falling. Unlike Ramsay's touch, Lord Bolton's was cold to the bone. She felt herself shiver because of that hateful touch.

"Lady Sansa, are you alright? Why were you running?" Roose Bolton's face searched hers for any clues. Putting her mask on, she smiled politely.

"I am so sorry, Lord Bolton. I was just... Playing a game." She said hastily. 

Lord Bolton's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Playing a game? With whom were you playing a game, Lady Sansa. I see no one." Judging by his face, Sansa felt like he didn't believe her. She finally noticed it was only her and Roose Bolton in this hallway. No maids. No guards. No one. For once, she wished Ramsay was with her. At least she knew his game with her. Lord Bolton was another story. His face became unreadable. "Are you looking for things you shouldn't, Lady Sansa?" He asked quietly. "You may have known the Dreadfort once, but I assure you, it belongs to the Boltons, not the Starks." She clenched her jaw tightly. Like she needed the reminder that he murdered her family. Fucking coward. She was just about to tell him so when she heard Ramsay.

"Sansa? Sansa, where did you go?" Ramsay's voice echoed through the hall, almost childlike. Rounding the same corner, he laid eyes on Sansa and smiled. "It looks like you beat me again, Lady Sansa. Perhaps you are as smart as you are beautiful." Sansa just turned around and stared at him like he had gone mad. She also noticed he had wiped all her blood off his face. He smiled wider and then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "I need you to play with me." He whispered so lightly she barely heard him even though his mouth was against her ear. Pulling back quickly and with that same smile, "Come, my lady, it's time for our afternoon stroll." He held his arm out to her, she took it. "Father, thank you for catching my future bride before she could run off again. I suppose she and I both had rough childhoods and want to make up for them." He said that a little more seriously.

Roose looked at his son indifferently. He spoke as though Ramsay was just another annoyance in the day, "Behave yourself, Ramsay." And then walked past the both of them. Sansa exhaled deeply, not realizing she had been holding her breath. 

"Come with me." He said, pulling her towards the great hall. Walking in silence, she felt like she was in a trance. Or maybe a dream? Trances cause one to be held still and secure. She was not still. She certainly wasn't secure either. Glancing at Ramsay out of the corner of her eye she thought maybe she was. Why did he lie to his father? Probably so his father wouldn't know how close he was to fucking her before the wedding. Suddenly noticing where they were, Sansa was surprised to see she was standing outside the kennels as Ramsay opened the door. He held it open for her and beckoned her on inside. Once they were in, they stood silently across from each other. Sansa stared at the ground, still wounded from earlier. The tension thick in the air. 

"Look at me." He said to her quietly and with no malice. Closing her eyes for a moment, she looked over at him. He seemed to hesitate and then he said, "You call me bastard. I know you are primarily referring to my upbringing. It's more my nature than anything. I don't know how to be... Gentle. I don't want to know how. Those girls over there in those cages. My girls. They are the only thing that has kept me going all of these years." His eyes were haunted. She had never seen someone look so vulnerable. "I gave up everything to serve under my father. There wasn't much to give though. I killed my whore mother as she killed the dog I loved. I ran away and didn't look back. I grabbed that dead dog's pups and ran." He looked almost frightened that he was telling her this. "That dog you asked me for over there? That's my girl, Aleyne. I raised her. She is the last pup I have left from the dead dog from my childhood. I take care of her. I... I love her." He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Walking over to the dog, Aleyne, he unlatched her cage and opened it. She came out to him and nuzzled him warmly. Rubbing her back against his legs. He crouched down to wrap his arms around her. Sansa stood there, transfixed. Looking back at her, Ramsay held his hand out to Sansa. She walked forward, eyes fixed on his. She took his hand and when he placed it on Aleyne's soft fur, she crouched as well. They sat there, petting the beautiful grey dog with the yellow eyes. "She should have been your wedding gift." He said quietly. Sansa's eyes whipped over to him, she had no words. "I want you to have her." He said. He looked over at her then. "She is my gift to you. My real gift to you. I have done things in my life that you will probably never understand-"

"I do understand." She blurted out. Apparently she found her voice. He looked at her wide eyed. "I want to hurt your father like you hurt Theon." She said. "He killed my family. Theon killed my family. The Lannisters killed my family. I am the last child of Ned Stark left besides my half-brother Jon who is at the Wall." She felt the tears then. "I am the only Stark left. When my father lost his head, I had to watch. Joffrey made me look at it on the spike outside. He beat me in front of the Court at the Red Keep and threatened to have his men rape me if I displeased him." She kicked her chin up a little bit and said through her clenched teeth, "I want to take the North back. I want us to take it together. You are a Bolton. I am a Stark. Our son could rule the Seven Kingdoms and we would murder everyone in our way." His eyes were wide. She touched his cheek now. "We could rule it all and burn the world around us. Will you do this with me? Will you help me kill your father after our wedding and take back what is ours?"


	11. The Game

Ramsay stared at Sansa for what seemed like forever. Her beautiful Tully eyes gleaming with ferocity and imploring him to help her. She wanted to take the North with him. She wanted to give him an heir that would sit on the Iron Throne. He honestly never imagined that this could be an option. He assumed he would serve under his father until his passing.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sansa said, "Your father wants another heir. A true heir." His eyes snapped up to hers.

"I am his only heir." He said testily. How could she think his father would replace him? Realization dawned on him. Lady Walda. That's why he married her. The real reason he married her. The Red Wedding was Tywin Lannister's way of securing the North by using Walder Frey as his pawn. His father was given a bride because he knew the best way to secure the North would be from a blood heir that united House Bolton and House Frey. He gave Sansa to Ramsay to further perpetuate allegiance, knowing full and well he never intended for Ramsay to become the Warden of the North. Ramsay felt that familiar rage boil inside of him. His mother used him, his father used him, now Sansa wanted to use him.

"Ramsay..." She said quietly. She reached over and touched his lips. It was an odd gesture. He found he liked it. "I want us to take the North together. I need you and you need me. We can own everything as long as we do it together." He saw her blush a little. It was strange seeing her blush like that after asking him to kill his father. She could seem so innocent at times and still so bloodthirsty. He like that about her. "Two days from now we will be married. They expect you to hurt me and rape me." She looked at him now. "We need to let them think you did. I want you to mark my body and let them believe I am just a pet of yours. Your father will never expect us to work together if he thinks you're hurting me." Ramsay blinked a little. If he just heard her correctly then she said she wanted him to fuck her and bruise her. Lust hit him again. Sansa's eye widen and he saw her nostrils flare slightly. Her pupils dilated too. She looked perfect. 

"Do you want me to marry and fuck you, Sansa? Do you really want to be round with my child and murder our enemies together? You know what that means in regards to your dead family that you're taking a Bolton willingly?" He had to know the answer. He needed this confirmation more than he ever needed his father's approval.

"Yes." She said. She didn't even hesitate. He thought he lost her earlier with his gift of Reek. How their dance had changed so much from when they first met barely a week ago until now. "Ramsay... I have never felt this wetness before you." He felt his cock swell painfully. If she kept talking like that he would have her in this kennel right now. The thought seemed so incredibly perfect. However, he needed to play this game well. Maester Thorne would inspect her tomorrow to make sure she was still a virgin. His cock was pounding at the thought that he would be the first to take her. Surprisingly, he had never had a virgin before. Randa had fucked stable boys before he decided he wanted her and the other women he had fucked had been experienced as well. He suddenly found he didn't want Myranda anymore. She didn't appeal to him like Sansa did. She was boring now. Looking down at Aleyne he decided he wanted to take Sansa on her first hunt with him after the wedding. It would help mold their story they were developing if it seemed that Sansa was traumatized by it. Looking at her now, he hardly believed it would. She would probably love it. Fuck, maybe she was supposed to be his all along.

Aleyne nudged his leg as if to remind him to keep petting her. Looking down at his girl again, he knew he wanted the same thing Sansa did. He would kill his father shortly after the wedding and then he and Sansa would take the world for their own. They just needed a plan. 

"How should we do it, then?" He asked her. He felt her hand gently take his chin this time and lift his face. She leaned in and sucked at his lips, kissing and biting gently at first and then more roughly. He groaned. She knew what he liked without realizing it. Pulling back, he saw her eyes were hooded with lust.

"Do you have your knife?" She asked huskily. The question caught him off guard but he reached around and grabbed it out of his breeches. He hesitated slightly, making sure she wouldn't stab him with it and handed it to her. She took it and cut her palm open. He was surprised. Watching the blood start to flow freely, she looked up at him as she set the knife down. She took her bleeding palm up to her face and rubbed it on her mouth and then she reached to him to do the same thing. His cock felt like it was going to explode. Then she lowered her palm to Aleyne and let his girl lap it up. He was surprised Aleyne didn't react more aggressively and start attacking. She had fed on humans enough to recognize a food source. She was gentle with Sansa though. 

"Kiss me." She demanded looking at him. He launched himself at her and took her to the ground. Luckily Aleyne moved out of the way. He pressed his full body against Sansa and rubbed his erection at the apex of her thighs again. That breathless noise she made in her room earlier almost had him spilling himself all over her thigh like a greenboy. Usually he had to work hard for his finish. And usually by hurting the female until she was bloody. He hadn't even taken her clothes off and he was ready to go. He felt her open her legs more and let him sit more comfortably between them. Then a hand was snaking down to his breeches, his little wolf wanted to touch him. Fuck that was hot. Sitting up slightly he unlaced himself and freed his aching cock. Sansa took the opportunity to sit up more and look at him. All of him that was revealed anyway. He saw her eyes widen immeasurably as she took the sight of him in. She looked at his eyes suddenly. "Please take your tunic off. I have never seen your chest and I want to. Badly." He didn't need to be told twice. All but shredding his favorite tunic, he managed to get it off rather quickly. The gasp that came out of her was the best compliment he had ever had. She leaned forward and touched each of his scars slowly. She particularly seemed to pay a lot of attention to the half moon scar next to his nipple. He saw her pull her hand back. He didn't want her to quit and then her tongue was lapping at his nipple. 

He clenched his teeth and let his head fall back slightly as he closed his eyes. The bite that followed caused his dick to twitch and weep at the tip. He could feel the wetness starting to roll down the shaft towards his balls. Sansa must have noticed as he felt her hand start its slow descent towards the area that wanted her attention the most. He felt her pull back from his nipple to look down. Following her gaze, he saw her hand had reached its destination. She extended her index finger and gently smeared the precum all over the swollen head. His abdomen flexed wildly and he bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out. His cock bounced at the action, causing Sansa to pull her hand back.

"Does it hurt when I do that?" She asked curiously.

"Not. At. All." He gritted out. She cocked her head at him slightly and then grabbed his erection hard in her hand. He moaned deeply. 

"And this?" She asked breathlessly. He looked down at her small hand. Her fingers weren't even close to touching. His girth was much more than a handful for him, let alone her. "It's so hard, Ramsay..." She whispered. She finally wrapped her other hand around the base and gently rested it against his testicles. He saw her blood smear all over his cock. He. Was. On. Fire. This little wolf was testing his patience and his measly attempt at keeping her maidenhead for one more night, at least. She stroked him a little. Oh fuck, he thought, she would make him cum in no time. He had to stop her. He had a reputation after all and he didn't want his little wolf to think he was a quick shot. Apparently she thought that already because she quit stroking him and stood up quickly leaving him on the ground, eyes glazed and cock weeping.

"Come." She said smirking and he almost thought she meant to keep jerking himself off. But she slowly licked his precum off her hand, along with some more blood, turned heel and started walking out of the kennels. Blinking he realized what she did. She was punishing him for his gift earlier. Little fucking wolf. She was merciless. He adored that. Staring down at his massive erection, he smiled. It certainly won't be hard to convince them that he really hurt her on their wedding night, he thought, he would ram himself inside of her all the way to the hilt which was a feat. No woman had ever been able to take him all the way and he wanted Sansa to. He would stretch her out as mercilessly as she was teasing him. He was determined to make an heir that night even if it meant she couldn't walk for days. His cock twitched again. He was going to enjoy every moment in her bed once they were married. She wanted him like he wanted her. She was inexperienced but fuck she was a tease already. 

Standing up, he once again tucked himself ruefully back into his breeches. He grabbed his tunic off the ground and saw it was torn to hell. Sighing, he decided he would just carry it back in. He walked over to where Aleyne had been laying asleep and reached down to pick his girl up. Even though she was a grown bitch, he always made sure to carry her like a pup from time to time. She wagged her tail slightly and yawned. He placed her in the bed he had made for her. She may live in a cage but he made sure it was as luxurious as any Lord or Lady's. He walked out and latched it back up and then walked out of the kennels. He knew Sansa wanted him to come find her. He wouldn't. He wanted to make her ache as well. He wouldn't relieve himself either though. He wanted them both ready to burst on their wedding night. He would start this game with her and he would finish it. Smiling again, he stared up at the night sky. The snowflakes fell around his half nude frame and melted against his skin. Exhaling deeply into the night, he started the journey back to his quarters.


	12. The Eve of the Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took awhile for me to post. My husband works with the military and he came back from his most recent trip. Hope you all enjoy and feel free to leave comments. Love hearing from you all!

Sansa gritted her teeth. She hated being a female some times. The double standards angered her and made her feel like she was livestock rather than a lady. 

"Please understand that I will just look and barely touch, my lady." Maester Thorne said. Again. For the third time. Didn't that just piss her off more. "We need to make sure the maidenhead is intact to proceed with your wedding tomorrow to Lord Ramsay." 

"Maester Thorne," she started, "I am aware of what needs to be done. Please proceed... I am rather uncomfortable." She whined slightly and let it sound like she was on the verge of tears. She needed to appear as delicate as possible for the next few weeks. If the plan she had in mind would work, she needed Lord Bolton to believe Ramsay was hurting her. Yet not so much as to renounce Ramsay's legitimization. She smiled internally, keeping her face straight. He didn't come see her last night like she wanted. He was playing with her. He was formidable when it came to games, she decided. She didn't need to think about what else transpired, the Maester would be aware if she became aroused for no apparent reason. So she continued her demure routine, whimpering from time to time as he inspected her and recorded his findings. Fucking tradition, she thought bitterly. She had this done to her three times now, once for Joffrey, once for Tyrion and now for Ramsay. Despite all the shit the Lannisters put her through, she didn't mind Tyrion's company. On their way to the Dreadfort, Littlefinger received a raven and had informed her that Lord Tyrion had escaped the black cells within the Red Keep and murdered Tywin Lannister while he was relieving himself on the chamber pot. She remembered laughing loudly. She knew Tyrion probably enjoyed it more than anyone could know. Tywin was a monster and resented his son who was born a half-man. 

"It is done, my Lady." Maester Thorne said finally. Putting on a good show of whimpering and moving slowly. Sansa was escorted by the Maester to the great hall where she was about to dine with Lord Bolton, Lady Walda and Ramsay. She entered the great hall and walked over to her spot across from Ramsay. Maester Thorne helped her seat herself and then walked over to Lord Bolton. Handing him his findings, he bowed and left. Lord Bolton looked over the scroll and showed no interest.

"It appears Lady Sansa is still a maid and kept herself intact, despite being married to one of the great whores in Westeros, Tyrion Lannister." Roose Bolton said in a bored tone. She smiled sweetly at Lord Bolton. She needed some wine. She had been nursing it lately but not at her usual intensity. She could feel the shaking in her bones some times. One of the servants came over to her and poured some Dornish red into her cup. She looked over at Ramsay, he was looking at her wine and then her. She saw the slightest nod of his head. He was encouraging her to drink. Ah, she thought, getting drunk would convince Lord Bolton that she was dreading her wedding. Well she certainly didn't need any help drinking wine. She was an expert. Taking her first big sip, she felt the usual tense muscles relaxing and that faint burn in her stomach. She needed to talk to Ramsay later when no one was around, they needed a solidified plan. 

"So Lady Sansa," Lady Walda began, "Are you excited for your wedding? I was incredibly excited to marry Roose." She said affectionately and reach over to touch Lord Bolton's arm. He glared at her and pulled his arm away, ignoring her hurt expression. Sansa took another big gulp of wine before she answered.

"I am a little nervous. I want to be everything for my lord husband and I hope to please him in all things." She said innocently. She let her voice shake a little bit. Looking over at Ramsay, she could tell from his eyes that he wanted her. In some ways she felt maybe they knew each better than anyone would have guessed. Yet he was still a mystery to her. She wanted to solve him. She wanted him to kiss her again. 

"I think my Lady should make a suitable bride. She has the perfect body for bearing sons and that is what I am looking forward to." Ramsay sneered the last part. His father finally looked up from his food. He face etched with warning. Sansa made sure to blush and slump a little in her chair. Peeking back up at Ramsay she saw him leering at her openly, eating his food in a way that seemed repulsive and sexual. She grabbed her cup again to have another drink, hoping no one noticed the smile on her lips. She liked this game. In King's Landing she was forced to play the game to live. She hated her captors as much as she hated Roose Bolton, but there she didn't have an ally. The Hound didn't really count. He kept her safe, mostly, but he was still Joffrey's dog. Ramsay was unique to her. He represented the wolf she felt within. His rage and lack of feeling when it came to mutilating and killing is what drew her to him. She didn't fear him. Hell, she refused to back down to anyone these days. Yet she had to be smart, she had to win. She would burn the world and she would do it with Ramsay by her side. She knew he felt something for her besides lust. She figured that much last night when he gave her his prized dog, Aleyne. She supposed she felt something too. It wasn't love, but it was more than just tolerance. She started to crave him.

"Don't worry about the wedding night, Lady Sansa." Lady Walda said kindly. "Having a child will give you purpose and change your outlook... It's already changed mine." She said with a giggle, looking at Lord Bolton affectionately again. Stiffening, Sansa looked up at Ramsay. He had stopped eating and his jaw was ticking. His grip on his fork revealed white knuckles. 

"Did you hear Lady Walda, Ramsay? You are to be a big brother." Lord Bolton said matter of factly. "But don't worry, you will always be my first born." He said. Silence stretched for half a minute, and then Ramsay looked up at his father and broke into a smile. 

"What an honor it would be, father." He said. Sansa almost believed him. He did sound sincere but the look in his eyes spoke differently. She knew this was coming. Lady Walda had told her of the sex she and Lord Bolton had. Not explicitly but in an educational sense. She wanted Sansa to know what to expect on her wedding night. She wanted to vomit at the thought of Lady Walda and Roose Bolton coupling. Sansa knew that her wedding night would be... A revelation. Tomorrow was it. She had to get through the awful ceremonial part and probably a bedding ceremony. She wasn't really looking forward to a bunch of half drunk men trying to rip her clothes off. It didn't matter though, she could skin them alive if she desired. She wanted to have Ramsay teach her how to flay. She would skin those murdering Lannisters like they skinned her family's direwolves. 

"Tomorrow is the day." Lord Bolton spoke after a few moments. "Tomorrow you both with pledge your loyalty to one another and proceed with the bedding ceremony. Ramsay, what gift do you have to present to your soon to be wife?" Lord Bolton looked at Ramsay expectantly. Ramsay smiled that evil smile he liked to don from time to time. He looked at Sansa with that predatory gleam in his eyes that she had grown to appreciate. She made sure to shrink in her chair a little.

"I have a perfect present for, my Lady Sansa. And actually it's near by." He said scooting back from the table and standing. Making a grand gesture he said, "I present to my future love-" Reek walked through the door to the left. "My favorite pet!" Sansa blinked for a moment. She stifled the urge to laugh, yesterday she was certainly not laughing but she knew now the rouse. She prepared her best horrified look and started the tears to roll. Ramsay continued for added effect, "You do remember Theon, don't you Lady Sansa? He burned Winterfell to the ground after slaughtering your brothers." That actually did hurt. She mourned her brothers everyday, however she knew that her revenge was soon at hand.

"Ramsay." Lord Bolton's voice said threateningly. "Why is that filth in this hall?" 

Ramsay opened his eyes wide with humor and shrugged. "Does he look like filth anymore? I cleaned him up for my betrothed. I assumed Lady Sansa would appreciate his subservience for the future." He said looking at her.

She managed to sound sweet and scared, "Th-Thank you, my Lord Ramsay. He will make a nice... Gift." She let herself bite her lip before proceeding. "I, too, have a gift for you." Beckoning for Millie to bring over her needlework, Sansa stood and took it from her. Plastering on her demure smile she walked around the table to Ramsay, carefully keeping her distance from Reek. Approaching him, she curtsied slightly and presented her gift to him. Ramsay smiled wickedly again and took it from her hands. She had made him a new tunic and embroidered the flayed man upon it. It truly was her best work. This was her real gift to him. She wanted him to have it. She looked over at Ramsay worrying about whether or not he would like it. His eyes were soft as he gently touched the stitches she had made. 

Clearing his throat, "Thank you, Lady Sansa. I would be honored to wear it tomorrow for our wedding." His eyes spoke volumes. He liked it, she thought. She curtsied low again.

"You are welcome. It would indeed be an honor to me if you wore it tomorrow." Walking back over to her chair, "Theon... Could you please help me into my chair?" She asked quietly. Reek's eyes went wide and he started shaking. He looked glued to the spot. 

"Reek. Do not make my darling Sansa ask you again." Ramsay said darkly. "We all know what happens when you displease me." That snapped Reek into action. He went over to Sansa and assisted her. She didn't have to fake not wanting to be near him. She hated this little shit. He was a turncoat and a murderer. Only he had chosen the wrong family name to betray. She would make sure of that. She wouldn't kill him for awhile though. She wanted him to see the Iron Islands covered in his kin's blood as she and Ramsay decimated the last of the Greyjoys and took the sea people for their own. She took another large sip of her wine, life was sweet at times. Another servant came into the great hall.

"Lord Ramsay, your dogs are agitated outside. We think someone may be in there with them." The servant said, bowing. Ramsay's eyes darkened even more. Sansa wondered what he would do when he found the culprit. She almost got wet thinking about the blood that would be splattered on the walls of the kennel. 

"Excuse me, father, Lady Walda and Lady Sansa." He said nodding in acknowledgement. "I will try not to be long, however please keep eating." With that he stalked out of the great hall. The silence hung thick and cloying in the air. Sansa didn't want to talk to either Lord or Lady Bolton though. More wine, she thought, much more wine. Dusk was almost upon them judging by the dying light being cast into the great hall. 

"One of these days I am going to kill all those damn dogs." Lord Bolton said darkly. Sansa slowly put her cup down and looked over at him. He was focused on his plate as ever. She had this fleeting thought that she would let Aleyne have him. That beautiful beast could rip him apart and devour his carcass. Not that she would let her eat him. Her lovely girl deserves only the best meat and not that sinewy, dry old bastard at the head of the table. She smiled suddenly, Lady Walda would be quite the meal. Wiping the smile off her face in case someone noticed, she also remembered that the fat Lady Walda was pregnant. Despite how much she hated the Boltons and Freys she didn't condone killing children and babies. Her brother Robb's child was killed in the womb right in front of him... By that very same fat lady's father. Sansa was better than that. No, the ultimate insult would be to raise the child under her roof and dispose of Walda once the child was born. Sansa looked over at Reek. Maybe she could use him to exact her revenge. Maybe she wouldn't have him watch as they killed his family. Maybe she could make him kill his family. She knew Ramsay could make him do it. She needed to learn how to be more like him. His authority was never questioned... Except by her, of course. And Roose fucking Bolton. A few more weeks, she chided in her head as she took another long pull on her cup. A few more weeks and she could let her wolf out. Beckoning to Reek, she requested he get her more wine. He was her gift after all and she decided in that moment she would use him up until there was nothing left.


	13. Trespasser

Ramsay headed towards the kennels. He was irritated that someone dared go into his girls' home. Well regardless of the trespasser's reason, his girls would eat well tonight. Cracking his neck by tensing up his shoulders and turning his head from side to side, he allowed his animalistic side to come forth more. Clenching and releasing his hands he felt the familiar rage inside of him boil up and over. Standing in front of the door to the kennels now, he palmed his dagger one last time and then wrenched the doors open, ready to flay the fucker alive. A cloaked figure was standing at his work bench. Looking over her shoulder at him was Myranda. She was toying with some of his leather whips and dog collars. 

"Why the fuck are you in here?" He asked her. The predator had not quelled at this discovery. She was just as unwelcome here as any trespasser. This was his and Sansa's place now. 

Pouting her lip at him a little, she said, "I thought you would have come to my room sooner. Don't worry though, I will spread my legs for you right here, like we used to do as teenagers." At that she turned fully to him, dropping the cloak to reveal her naked body. She was thin but slightly built. Her skin was a little tan considering they lived in the North. Her dark brown hair was braided over her shoulder. Her brown eyes taking him in as she always did. She used to sway her hips at him fully clothed and have him ready to mount her at the drop of a hat. Now he felt... Nothing. She was as unappealing to him as the fat Lady Walda. She wasn't his Sansa. He hadn't even seen her naked. He saw the tops of her thighs hidden underneath her small clothes. He had felt her glorious wet cunt against his cock, but he knew without a doubt that she was all soft curves and delicate frame. She had the will and anger of a warrior though and that was what attracted him the most.

"Get out." He said, bored. No doubt now that he would have a hunt soon and the prey stood before him, completely unaware. She seemed surprised at his dismissal, but pursued him nonetheless.

"Ramsay, I know you are dreading this fucking wedding to that Stark bitch, but I promise you that I can make you feel better. She is a whore that-" He was in her face now.

"Go on, keep talking, pet." He said threateningly. "If there was a whore in this castle, it would be you. I've had you so many times now. You are boring to me. Now get the fuck out of these kennels and do not return. If you do, I'll let Sansa come out here and unlock Aleyne's cage while you're tied," he pointed, "to that pole over there." Paling, Myranda finally covered her breasts up with her hands.

"Ramsay... I thought you desired me. We used to hunt together. We used to fuck all night long... I thought we were meant to be?" She said shakily. She wasn't even looking at him, fucking coward.

"Look at me, whore." He sneered. Complying she looked into his face. Leaning in to her, his face was a scant inches from hers. "I was never meant to fuck a kennel master's daughter for the rest of my life. My Queen is sitting in that dining hall waiting for me while I am stuck out here to deal with you." He said in a disgusted tone. "She is who I was meant to be with. You snivel and cower before me at all times. I always expect you to crack under pressure because you are weak. You are pathetic. You and Reek were the same to me. Both little pets I could toy with from time to time." He had started backing her into a corner. "Now I don't even need you. You are even less to me than Reek is. As a matter of fact," he grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the cage with the small wooden box in it. Myranda was clawing at him now, starting to whimper. She knew what the box meant. "You are going to make great meat for our dogs. They could use the exercise." She started fighting him in earnest now, screaming. Turning around, he punched her hard in the face, feeling her cheek bone break beneath his fingers. She bent over and threw up on the ground from the pain. Not relenting, he yanked her by her hair into the cage and shoved her into the box. It was barely big enough for a person to fit in which is why it was perfect starting point for a hunt. The girls could smell her blood already, clawing at the cages and snarling. Slamming the lid shut on the top of the box and locking it, he could hear her screaming and crying. It was muffled though. His cock was hard from hearing her cry. He wanted Sansa to wrap her pretty little mouth around him once his girls caught Myranda. It would be quite the show. He knew his little wolf would be chomping at the bit, just as aroused as he was. 

"I hope you sleep well, Randa. You're going to need the rest." He said to the box. Whistling now, he strolled back out to the courtyard and locked the kennel doors. Seeing the servant who had told him about the trespasser, he instructed him to make sure no one went near the kennels until he ordered so. He needed to make sure no one let the bitch out before their hunt. Although, hunting down two insolent fucks would be nice too. Well, best not get too greedy, he thought. He needed loyalty now and he would earn it once he secured himself an heir. He had been imagining the consummation of their marriage all night and day. The sun had set at this point and it was dark, the sky littered with little white lights. He wanted to take Sansa out here in the snow, too. See her pale skin almost blend in with the white landscape and her red hair blaze against it. She was such a contradiction. Her beautiful soft frame and her razor sharp wit. Her kind, sing-song voice and her bloodthirsty words. She was like a siren he had read about as a child. They sang to the men manning the great ships of old and beckoned them to their deaths. They drowned attempting to be near these beautiful and treacherous creatures. His little wolf was everything they embodied, that's why he agreed to her plan to kill his father. She was absolutely right when she said they needed each other. Ramsay didn't like to rely on anyone for anything. He had learned long ago that everyone was a liar and would let him down eventually. Except his girls. Now he found his Queen, his little wolf. She would walk side by side with him in the ashes of their destruction as they claimed Westeros for their own. He could give a flying fuck about the Dragon Queen that was sitting in Meereen right now. She could be disposed of or even allied with later. Right now the focus was on the North. He knew that even though Sansa would carry his new last name, she would always be a Stark. He was surprisingly alright with that. Ramsay wasn't known for his patience or acceptance but he found that he had both for his little wolf. 

He was standing outside the great hall now. Taking a deep breath and proceeding with the plan, he waltzed into the hall. Apparently everyone had finished, he observed dryly. There wasn't even a servant in sight. Most of the candles had burned out as well. However, there was some ale sitting on the table. His father wasn't much of a wine person and neither was he. So in addition to Dornish red at meals, his father always had ale on hand. The great hall was dark save for a few little candles that hadn't burned out yet. Sitting down at his usual seat, he grabbed the ale and started drinking from the bottle. He was thinking about the tunic Sansa made him. It was immaculate. The intricacies were absolutely stunning. He wasn't one to appreciate the feminine arts but she certainly had talent. Sansa could wield a needle quite well, maybe she could wield a knife or sword. He laughed a little out loud at the thought of his Sansa trying to swing a sword with any real meaning.

"I'm glad you find something humorous, Ramsay." His father's indifferent tone made him jump. He didn't hear him come in. His father always had that bored expression on his face, like he was waiting to die from old age. Or from his firstborn, Ramsay thought smugly. He would relish the day he could drive his dagger through the old fucker's heart. His father's own dagger no less. 

"I find many things humorous. Not that you would know, as you've carried the same expression on your face since the Seven came into existence." Ramsay said as he took another pull off the ale. Setting it down he looked over at his father and smiled humorlessly. 

"You think everything is a game, Ramsay. You are more interested in those flea bitten mutts out there than your future in the North." His father said bitterly. "You know I am having a child with Lady Walda and if it's a boy, I will have another son to decide upon. His claim to the North would be greater than yours." Ramsay closed his eyes and sighed loudly, his little wolf was right. Not that he was surprised. 

"So this future child would rule the North rather than me? Me, who will marry Sansa Stark. The daughter of Eddard Stark who was the Warden of the North for decades before you gutted his firstborn in the presence of the decrepit, old Walder Frey and backed by Lannister gold, which by the way, is wildly frowned upon in these parts." He said this all with the same bored tone his father used. He saw the muscle tick in his father's jaw as he stared at him. Well, well. Looks like he struck a nerve. Goody for him.

"You are a legitimized bastard." His father said threateningly. "You were Ramsay Snow mere weeks prior to this. I secured Sansa Stark for you to marry and what do you do? You treat her like one of your whores and give her the last thing in Westeros she would want, short of an audience with Cersei fucking Lannister." His father's voice had raised at this point. "You excused yourself from this dinner, the last one you will have prior to marrying her and to go deal with your mutts. You are not fit to lead because you have no discipline. You are impulsive and you do not strategize well. You are more impressed by your own doings than the greats before you. You refuse to be diplomatic or even show the slightest hint of humility in order to make your bride tolerate you. Even I, most times, cannot tolerate you. However, I do so because you are my son. You will play nice with her, Ramsay, or so help me, I will strip you of my name and put a babe in her myself so that way there isn't even a hint of you left in House Bolton." Ramsay stared his father down and took a long drink from the ale, never breaking eye contact. Slowly setting the ale down, Ramsay stood up and walked towards his father. Roose straightened his back, clearing expecting a fight. Ramsay merely stood in front of him. 

Finally, he said quietly, "I always fear I will never be great enough to fulfill your shoes, father. I watch how you man this castle and I doubt myself. That whore raised me and I feel her weakness has soaked into me and I cannot get rid of it." He was staring at the floor. 

"Ramsay." His father said softly. "You are my firstborn. I welcomed you into my keep without hesitation and I will teach you how to be a good leader. How to be what your soldiers need and how to be a decent husband to your wife." He enveloped Ramsay in a stiff hug. Breaking apart, his father nodded slightly and headed towards his chambers. Ramsay stood there staring at he floor until his father's footsteps faded. Ramsay looked up, the predatory gleam in his eyes and the wicked smile plastered on his face. He could maneuver pieces on the board like the Lannisters did, however unlike the lions, he knew the limitations of his pawns and when it was time to sacrifice them.


	14. Sansa Bolton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Sorry this is a super long chapter. I had such a grandiose idea of how they would interact that first time. So yeah, lemons, lemons, lemons. I apologize ahead of time for any typos. Feel free to leave comments and thank you all for the kudos !

The wedding day finally arrived. Sansa couldn't say that she was nervous but she had definitely noticed a diffusion of tension between Ramsay and his father this morning as they were breaking their fast. She was slightly worried that maybe Ramsay had forsaken their plan and desired to prove himself to his father after all. From what she could hear of their chats, it certainly sounded like Ramsay was trying to learn from his father. Sansa was in her room now while the servants were dressing her and doing her hair. She was adorned in a beautiful white dress that was elegant and tasteful, nothing like the dresses in Kings Landing. Atop her shoulders a soft white fox pelt rested, making her appear slightly broader than she was and a little foreboding. She liked it a lot. Her hair was another story. It was wrapped around her head in the fashion of the south. Braided also. She wanted to let it down so it could cascade around her back. Ramsay always seemed to be staring at it. 

The servants started to apply small amounts of perfume to her body. She smelled like flowers and very feminine. She wanted to appear very delicate tonight. She had been tearing up as much as possible without dehydrating completely. She also sniffed and dabbed at her nose from time to time. Looking at herself in the mirror again, she really did look like the Tully side. She missed her mother. She always thought her wedding day would be celebrated with her family. Her mother fretting over her dress and hair while her father got the brothers ready and presentable. Her bickering with Arya over how she looked and how she wanted Arya to wear a dress and not wield a sword at the ceremony. She felt herself tear up genuinely. No matter how long it had been she still felt raw from it. She wiped her eyes again and swallowed thickly. She couldn't wait to get this over with. She needed to move forward with her plan as much as possible if she wanted to meet her timeline. Conquering required a lot of thought and planning. It could not be done overnight and yet when the act was complete, all of Westeros would be left in the dust of her wake. She could feel herself getting enraged, she needed to soften a little bit.

"Everyone," she said letting her voice waiver a little, "could you all give me a few moments before I head down to the ceremony? I feel slightly dizzy and want to make sure I don't faint from it." Everyone in the room looked understanding and bowed before leaving. Clearing her mind, she started thinking about tonight. She wanted Ramsay to be rough with her. Maybe not rip her in half of he could manage it but certainly leave some marks. There had to be a balance between his usual antics and treating her somewhat better than his old pets. It would prove to Lord Bolton that Ramsay was trying to overcome his nature while still managing to alienate her. Roose would keep bringing Ramsay closer to the heart of the Dreadfort to teach him how to rule. Sansa would go to Lady Walda and plant the seed of deception about Ramsay's treatment of her. She would act as if she were suffering greatly. She would not eat as much at dinner and start drinking wine more. Not too hard, she thought smugly. Soon she would be fatter than ever when they conceived. She blinked suddenly. She may become pregnant tonight. As ironic as it was given her plan, she had never really thought too much about having the children and more about the act of creating them. Roose would need to be gone before he found out Sansa was pregnant. Shit, she thought, she would have to be careful of what she ate or drank too. Lord Bolton wouldn't be above slipping her moontea since he had her future nephew or niece murdered in the womb. She wanted this world to be perfect for her children. She remember thinking not too long ago that she would hate them because of who they were. She also remembered how Cersei loved her children despite everything she was. She knew that raising her children with Ramsay as their sire would not be easy. Her soon to be husband was many things and being patient was not among them. She sighed slightly. She needed Ramsay to defend them to the death. Not play doting father to the children. 

"Lady Sansa." She heard a small knock at the door. 

"Come in." She said. Stepping inside her door was none other than Reek. She stared at him for a moment. Ah yes, he was to walk her down the aisle, since she had no one else. Pursing her lips, she looked him up and down. He was careful not to look at her and almost looked like his collarbone would pop out of his thin skin at any moment. He was hideous before his run in with Ramsay and he was certainly hideous after. She knew Reek was somewhat aware of their plan even though he knew better than to say so. "Reek." She said softly. "Look at me." Shaking all over, Reek finally managed to look at her briefly and then cats his gaze down again. "Reek." She chided again. He swallowed and then looked at her and kept his gaze there. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to stay loyal to Ramsay and I. After everything that you have done to murder my family, I think you owe that to me." Reek's eyes starting getting watery. He was shaking worse by the second. "Do you think you could do that for me, Reek? Do you think you could keep being a loyal pet to Ramsay and I? You know what will happen if you don't, right." She kept that smooth and quiet voice. Of course he knew what would happen. His was Ramsay's pet first and foremost before she arrived. She started to turn back to her mirror-

"Ididn'tkillthem." Reeks words rushed over her. She froze. 

"What did you just say?" She asked turned fully to him; now she was the one shaking. Reek was crying now. "Reek! What did you just say?" She was wide eyed and standing now.

"Your brothers. Bran. Rickon. I didn't kill them. I killed some stable boys to make it look like I killed them. But I didn't. I wanted my father to be proud of me. They escaped in the night. That wilding took them one night and vanished, took the dire wolf with them and the fat one. Hodor. I just wanted to be a Greyjoy again. I betrayed your father and Robb. I- I-" He words were running together. He broke down fully crumpling to the floor. She was frozen to her spot. Catatonic. She couldn't pull any air into her lungs. Her brothers. They were alive. Her wolf growled. That's what Reek said. Last time a Stark believed him, they were killed. She gritted her teeth. She would make sure Ramsay extracted the full truth from him soon. She needed to know if her little brothers were alive. She would reassemble the rest of the Starks. Jon included. She wanted what was left of her family back. 

"Reek, get up please." She said softly. She needed him to put his weakness aside right now and start the descent towards the ceremony. She knew it was time. She could hear the chatter in the courtyard. Steeling herself she walked over to Reek and extended her hand towards him. He flinched and collapsed onto the ground more if that was possible. "Reek, I need you to get up now and walk me down the aisle." She crouched a little and petted his hair. He looked up at her, tears and snot running down his face. "Clean yourself up and let's go. Ramsay won't be happy if he has to wait for me." That seemed to do the trick. Reek almost jumped off the floor and ran to her dirty wash basin. He wiped his face on his sleeve. She grimaced. At least it wasn't the arm she had to hold on to. They started their descent towards the ceremony. Finally reaching the courtyard, she plastered on her best frightened look and timidly started walking outside. The snowflakes were falling and candles were lit outside to provide a beautiful ambience in the dying winter light. She looked around at all these somewhat familiar faces she had gotten used to over the past week. Finally looking straight ahead she felt her mouth go dry. Ramsay looked... Handsome. His dark brown curls combed and his angled jaw freshly shaved. He was wearing the tunic she had embroidered for him. It fit him quite well from the looks of it. She could see his muscled form filling it out at the shoulders and the tunic tapered towards his narrow waist. His cloak draped over his shoulders added for a daunting view. He look like Death himself. All hard edges and sinister aura around him. She felt herself get wet.

As they approached her husband to be, she felt Reek stop just a few steps away from Ramsay. Instead of offering her to Ramsay, he just quickly tucked tail and ducked into the darkness. Not that she cared. Despite all the baths he had been given, he still stink of rot and sweat. She let her eyes go big as she stood there. She waited for Ramsay to walk forward and grab her. He stood there for a moment, staring her down. She gently lowered her eyes and shook a little for effect. She felt someone push her forward, but not roughly. Whipping her head around she saw Roose Bolton behind her. She flinched and pulled out of his reach. She took the last remaining steps until she was face to face with Ramsay. The septon of the Faith of the Seven began the ceremony. Sansa found herself staring at Ramsay the entire time. She spoke her parts perfectly and gently bent forward to allow Ramsay to drape his cloak around her. A few more words and it was done. She was Sansa Bolton now. Looking at Ramsay she felt his hand snake its way behind her head and to the nape of her neck. Ah yes, they were to kiss now to signal their matrimony. He pulled her close as he took a step forward. Then he devoured her. Almost aggressively. She tried so hard not to moan and rub herself against him. She kept her body stiff and her mouth as closed as possible, but the taste of him was impeccable. She couldn't wait until the bedding ceremony was over and she could finally allow him to take her. She would make him work for it. She was a wolf and she demanded he earn it from her. She had made it far too simple for him so far. He licked at her mouth one last time before it became too obscene. She allowed herself to shake again. Looking around she say all the pitying looks. Good, she thought, it was working.

"Shall we celebrate?" Ramsay's voice echoed through the courtyard. His men started cheering loudly. They went back into the great hall where the feast was being set on the table. Music was playing loudly. The table they usually sat at was moved to the head of the great hall and lined with chairs for the Boltons and herself as well as Maester Thorne on the end. The rest of the hall was filled with table and benches. Roasted pork and beef was being served in droves to the guests. Cups of wine and ale sloshed around as guests took their places. As the rest of the wedding party was escorted to the seats at the front of the great hall, she took her place by Ramsay and held his arm demurely. She was trying to avoid his eye so she didn't smile at him. It was so hard to not smile at him now. She wanted to set the whole fucking place on fire right now with everyone inside. 

"I would like to make a toast to the newlyweds." Lord Bolton's voice boomed over the din. Silence quickly ensued. "To Ramsay, my son and heir. May you hold the North for your sons and their sons to come. Our Blades are Sharp!" Roose's voice echoed across the hall. The men echoed his words and slammed their cups on the table. Sansa took her first sip of wine for the night. She felt Ramsay's hand tighten on hers. She looked over at him and they finally sat down. 

Leaning towards her ear, he whispered, "I want you completely sober when I take you tonight. I want you to feel me inside of you and never forget. So pretend to keep drinking to keep our appearance up, but if I think you are actually drinking any of it, I will fuck you in every hole tonight." She felt the goosebumps raise on her skin. She was ready for it. Shit, she thought, she couldn't drink. She gritted her teeth and pretended to take a sip. He knew what he was doing to her. She could feel her nipples harden under her dress. She maneuvered her arms around her chest in a very subtle manner. She felt Ramsay's hand slither across her knee. She knew no one could see it because the cloth covering the long table. She could feel his fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt and slowly inching it up and out of his way. Then his warm palm was against her cool skin. He traced his fingers over the delicate part of her upper leg. She had never wanted a drink so bad as she did right now. Ramsay was feeling her up in front of everyone yet no one knew, it was rather sinful. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was carrying on conversation with a table of his men a few feet away and acting like he wasn't doing anything to her at all. Goddamn him. She would definitely make him work for it tonight. Maybe he would really have to mark her body to get her to submit to him. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs and a burn in her lower belly. She felt his fingers trail along her inner thigh and her traitorous legs spread a little for him. Her hand had started shaking a little. Lady Walda's voice cut through her internal monologue. Dazed she looked over at her. 

"Sorry, what?" She asked.

"I said you look positively flushed, my dear. Is the wine starting to get to you?" At that moment Ramsay's rough fingers found her sensitive folds under the table. She squirmed slightly and bit her cheek. That bastard. 

"Oh yes," she said mustering her best buzzed voice, "I think I am starting to feel quite out of it." She even slurred a little for effect. She felt Ramsay's finger start to touch her wetness and then pull back. 

"Don't worry, my wife, it's about time for the bedding ceremony." She looked over at Ramsay as he took the fingers that had just been assaulting her and slowly licked them one by one. All the men roared with laughter at his display, none of them realizing what he was licking off his fingers. Her cheeks grew quite hot and she gaped at him. Suddenly standing up he said, "What do you think, boys? Think I should take her to bed now?" He yelled out to them. After roaring with laughter the men all stood up and started towards Sansa. Ramsay looked over at her one last time and smiled wickedly. Then he was picked up by men behind him. She felt foreign hands grab her from behind and pop her out of her chair. She gasped as male hands started pulling her clothes off. She had heard and seen many accounts of the bedding ceremony but she had never assumed it would happen to her. Now she could understand what the other females had talked about. It was horribly undignified and made her feel like a common whore. The men were grabbing all over her body, risking a touch here and there. She smirked, maybe it would irritate Ramsay if she told him she enjoyed it. They were carrying her down the halls quickly, she was almost down to her small clothes already. When they reached Ramsay's chambers, Sansa was shoved inside almost nude and the door slammed behind her. She could hear Ramsay's voice grow louder as he approached. Another roar of laughter and cheering and he opened the door and came inside. 

She was shivering already. It wasn't from arousal either, she was genuinely cold. This room was much colder than hers but even as he stood in front of her only in his breeches, he didn't seem bothered by it. He was looking her up and down. He approached her slowly, stalking closer and closer until she was backed against the bed. She never wavered her stare though. She may have appeared weak out there but she was a wolf in here. Running with that thought, she almost growled at him and jumped away from the bed. She was challenging him right now, much like a true wolf would challenge to be alpha. She needed him to prove himself to her and she didn't understand why it was so important to her. His eyes darkened immensely and she could tell he was becoming the predator again. Actually if she was honest with herself, he was always the predator, he had just learned to hide it better. Now she was shivering with arousal. She could feel him about to lunge for her, she started to run. She didn't know where but she needed to put distance between them. Despite being basically the same height as her, he was very fast in his feet. He was on her in no time, taking her to the hard floor. She started biting and clawing at him. His took the brunt of her attack and became covered with angry red welts that had small trickles of blood coming out of it. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated until the blue was a very thin ring. His eyes were essentially black. He grabbed her arms roughly and slammed them into the ground and sat straddled on top of her. She felt like a sacrifice as she stared up at him, panting. He leaned down until he could lick at her collarbone and up her neck. Getting to the soft flesh next to her ear, he bit down hard and flattened his chest against hers. She gasped and kicked her legs, trying to bring a knee up to dislodge him. Thinking quickly she rammed the side of her face and head into his, causing him to rear back and for her to yank a knee through his thighs and right into his balls. Ramsay let out a pained groan and rolled off her but still grappled with her hands. Switching roles she mounted him, her thighs split wide over his hips and his huge cock rubbing her thigh and between her legs. She couldn't help rub her sensitive flesh against him. Her small clothes and his breeches causing a wonderful friction. She let her head fall back slightly. Suddenly Ramsay was sitting up against her, yanking her braids in her hair hard, causing tears to come to her eyes. 

"Did I say you could enjoy yourself, little wolf? You won't get any relief until I allow it. Are we clear on that?" He tugged harder on her braids for emphasis. She moaned. "What do you say?" He asked vehemently. 

"Yes... Ramsay." She said purring. He leaned in and licked her neck again, suckling along her jawline. She could feel him marking her flesh already. She was on fire again. 

"Put your hair down." He commanded, letting her arms go. She knew he liked her hair down. She made quick work of undoing the intricate braids and letting it fall in silky waves around her shoulders. Suddenly his knife appeared between her breasts against her small clothes. "You are far too beautiful to have these fucking clothes on." He said darkly. Pushing the blade forward she heard the fabric rip as she stared at his beautiful face and ice blue eyes as he concentrated on getting her small clothes off. Feeling the cool air hit her breasts caused her nipples to harden even more. Ramsay moaned in his throat as her breasts were revealed. Leaning forward again, he latched on to her nipple brutally. Her husband was not one for soft touches or patience, her mind reiterated. He was suckling her and letting his teeth barely graze her sensitive skin. She had wrapped her arms around his neck and head at this point, pulling him even closer if that were possible. She could feel his cock throbbing against her, hot and heavy. He moved to the other nipple quickly, a small, wet pop noise sounding as he let go. She was burning alive. She didn't know how to touch him, she truly had never done this before. Her wolf bares its teeth, ready for a fight. She felt her hands crank into claws as her nails started to score Ramsay's skin on his neck and scalp. He suckled her harder and bit down roughly on her nipple. She cried out and felt a spasm deep inside her lower belly. Ramsay thrust up against her in vain, their clothes still restricting them. Ramsay must have decided he was ready to fuck her because the next thing she knew she was in his arms as he was carrying her to the bed. His jaw clenching, he tossed her on the bed like she weighed nothing. She stretched her body out as far as she could, her narrow hip bones framing her well and her breasts hard and peaked. She could feel Ramsay watching her every move, waiting to strike again. She pulled her feet back towards her again and felt him grab her ankles. She bit her lip and started to let him spread her legs. He climbed in between them and apparently shed his breeches. She looked down the length of her body at him. She swallowed thickly when her eyes landed on his cock. It stretched clear to her navel and was as thick as her wrist. The head was nearly purple and the shaft was heavily veined. It was dark in contrast with her pale skin. She knew she would feel a lot of discomfort and pain when he would first enter her. Ramsay was making small circles on her ankles still. She looked up at his face and tilted her back, beckoning him to kiss her. He lowered himself on top of her, his hard chest again her soft one. He started kissing her roughly, his hips thrusting against her as his cock was wedged between her stomach and his. She was breathless and achy all over. Her nails dig into his back. She felt his hands grip her hips in a crushing intensity and then he reached around to grab her ass. Yanking her up roughly with one hand and using the other as leverage, he started thrusting his hips with more intensity. 

Her eyes popped open and she pulled back from his mouth to look at him. He was trying not to hurt her by getting her wet and ready. "Ramsay..." She trailed off. Clearing her throat delicately, "I want you... I need you inside of me. Make this ache stop." She whimpered. He closed his eyes and set her lower abdomen back down on the bed.

"Suck me." That's all he said. Lifting himself off her, he sat back on his knees, his hard cock jutting forward. She licked her lips and watched his pupils dilate even further. She sat up and moved to get on her hands and knees. Ramsay gently gathered her hair up and pulled it out of her face as she crawled to where his erection was. She was salivating at the thought of having his glorious length in her mouth. Feeling inspired, she looked up into his eyes and slowly started to let his cock penetrate her mouth. It was not an easy feat. His girth caused her to open her mouth as wide as she could while also trying to keep her teeth off his cock. She barely had the head in and her jaw as aching already. She went to pull back, when she felt Ramsay grab the back of her head and thrust into her mouth. The head was all the way in her mouth and rubbing the back of her throat. Her eyes were wide and she shoved him back out a little while she narrowed her eyes at him. He fisted his hand brutally in her hair angling her mouth again so her throat was open, he shoved as much of himself as he could into her mouth. She felt his cock stretch her throat wide, it almost hurt but she wasn't gagging. She pulled back again, took a deep inhale through her nose and worked him back into her throat again. She pressed on until she couldn't take anymore length. She looked up at Ramsay, his eyes were so incredibly wide. She had taken over half his cock down her throat at this point. She let him slide entirely back out of her mouth, his erection coated in saliva. She took a deep breath and licked her lips. Ramsay tackled her back down to the bed and licked her mouth fervently, like he was trying to taste himself on her. She moaned and spread her legs again. She felt his wet cock slip between her legs. He stopped kissing her and lifted his chest off hers slightly.

"I can't wait any longer." He said in a strangled tone. "I need you, Sansa, my beautiful Sansa." She looked into his face searching for anything other than genuine desire. Slowly she nodded.

"Don't worry about hurting me." Was all she said. She wanted him rough and animalistic. He inhaled sharply and and reached between them, he stroked himself a few times and lined up with her weeping pussy. He rubbed the head back and forth a few times, smearing her arousal all over her lips. Then he started to push again her core. She could feel a glorious pressure against her outer lips but nothing more than that. Ramsay was coated with sweat and smelled deliciously musky. Maybe this wasn't so bad she thought. She must be- Her thoughts were cut off and part of his engorged head was forced brutally into her, her body starting to give way a little. She gasped, her eyes going wide. She tried to inch back a little but Ramsay grabbed her throat with his hand and he kept forcing himself inside of her. She couldn't even scream as he stretched her wide. The pressure was excruciating. She felt like she was being torn in half. Her entire body was stiff and still he pushed further.

"Oh fuck, my little wolf. My Sansa." Ramsay was chanting her name at this point. Finally he stopped moving. Was it over, she wondered, her insides were burning from being stretched so wide and deep. "No, my Sansa," he said possibly reading her mind and looking at her, "the head is finally in. You are the tightest little cunt I've ever had. You are perfect." He closed his eyes and shook slightly. She felt his thumb gently rubbing her throat. She started to feel her desire come back after a few minutes. Ramsay apparently felt some of her wetness too. His grip tightened on her throat again as he anchored her. He started pushing forward again and she felt him nudge up against something that felt like a barrier. Her maidenhead, she thought. Ramsay opened his eyes and looked at her, his almost black eyes piercing her. "This is going to hurt." He said. Fuck, she thought, if what she was feeling wasn't pain then she couldn't even imagine what real pain was. She kicked her chin up again. She wasn't afraid of pain, she refused to be a slave to it. 

"Fuck me, Ramsay. I want to hurt." She said and meaning it. Ramsay's other hand let go of his cock and he grabbed a handful of her ass again and angled her below him. She could feel his head throbbing inside of her. He applied pressure to her throat again. She felt him rear back a little and then suddenly he slammed himself clear inside of her, ripping her maidenhead away. What she felt was indescribable. She heard Ramsay moaning above her. His cock felt like it was in her womb. She felt her legs twitch, they were numb in comparison to her stretched pussy. The pain was almost blinding in its intensity. She felt Ramsay start licking her neck and massaging her breasts. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing. She winced in earnest as he pulled back and slowly moved forward again. She didn't feel the same pain as before. It was less intense, duller now. He kept that same slow pace, retreating, entering, retreating, entering. Finally she was started to feel something even better than her earlier arousal. This was like someone had set her blood on fire. Popping her eyes open again, she looked at Ramsay. He was staring down at her, intensely. Suddenly she wanted his mouth on her sex. 

"Lick me. Please Ramsay." She whined. "I want you to taste me mingled with you..." He slowly pulled all the way out of her, she felt extremely empty. One moment she was hot and full to bursting and the next she was cold and hollow. Then his mouth was on her, his teeth nipping at her sensitive flesh. The aching in her lower belly came back with a vengeance and soon she was gasping his name and pulling his hair. She was so close to... Coming? Was that what this was? Fuck, who cared. It was amazing. No sooner had she had that thought then Ramsay removed his mouth from her core. Suddenly she felt the sting of his well placed smack on her tender flesh. She gasped and arched.

"I didn't say you could come." Suddenly he was forcing himself back inside her. She moaned this time. He felt incredible. He was solid and wide. She needed the mix of gentle and rough. Looking down her body she saw she was littered with purple bruises already. Fuck... That was hot. Once he was buried fully inside her, he gave her a moment to adjust again and then he was slamming into her roughly. She felt his sac slapping against her sensitive rear. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She felt his hand grab her breast again and start to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Arching against him she reached down to grab his muscled lower back and urge him on. She felt that same coiling inside if her, only much more intense. Ramsay was thrusting even more quickly now, his eyes screwed shut and his neck muscles straining. Sweat was beading up all over her body as she approached her orgasm. Ramsay lowered his head to her breast and sucked her sensitive nipple back into his mouth. She felt that coil snap inside of her and suddenly her pussy was convulsing around his cock and she was screaming his name. Her nails dug into his back as she started to come down from the high. Ramsay was still thrusting into her brutally while suckling her nipple. She felt him thrust once more and suddenly a warm heat felt like it penetrated her womb and trickled back out of her. Ramsay let go her breast and cried out, slamming himself twice more into her harder than ever before collapsing on top of her. She felt a sticky warmth seeping between her legs where they were joined. 

She let her hands gently trail across his back. He pulled up slightly and smiled at her, a truly genuine smile that left her speechless. Then he nuzzled the side of her neck and rolled them onto their sides facing one another. Reaching down he pulled the duvet over her and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. 

"Still want me?" He asked quietly looking into her eyes. She saw the insecurity there for the first time and felt empowered by it. Not because she could use it against him but because this warrior trusted her with it.

"Always." She said and for the first time, she meant it.


	15. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post. The summer has been rather busy, but I hope to keep updating as often as I can! Enjoy. Comments are always welcome as I appreciate all ideas :)

Ramsay stirred slightly. Opening his eyes he felt a small warm body pressed against him. Looking over he saw Sansa's red mane flowing over the pillows in his bed. He finally had her last night, many times, and she was exquisite. He quickly found that she liked what he did to her by administering a little pain right before she came. She handled him well. Fuck, no female had ever been able to take him all the way and she did. Hell she was even able to get him down her throat a little bit. It appeared his little wolf had no gag reflex. Wasn't he a lucky bastard, he thought smiling. When he first entered her, it was almost too tight, but as she started to relax it was better for the both of them. When he finally came last night it was by far the most intense orgasm he had ever had, the fact his cum was dripping onto her thighs before he even pulled out was evidence of that. He wasn't ever letting his little wolf go. She was ferocious when she challenged him and he felt something that he hadn't really felt before. It was respect. Usually when he thought of a woman, especially the ones he had kept company with over the years, there was no respect. He purposely degraded them. But Sansa was different. She commanded that respect. He felt honored for being the first man she had laid with. His ego certainly appreciated that fact. He knew he would kill any man who dared look at her with lust in his eyes. He allowed the bedding ceremony last night because it was tradition, yet he didn't like any of his men touching or groping her. Plus he needed his men to follow him if he was going to take the North completely. He needed loyalty and respect and some times the two didn't always mix. Sansa suddenly stirred and roll over to face him. She was still asleep so he got to appreciate her resting form. Looking her up and down he liked how her delicate hips framed her body. They were meant to bear sons. His sons. He let his palm drift down to where it rested between her hip bones. His hand consumed the space between them. Her pale skin somehow paler than his. He let his hand wander now and gently move up her body to her small rib cage. He could see it ripple as she breathed. Her breasts bouncing slightly. She was breathtaking.

"Good morning." His eyes snapped up to her Tully blue ones which were taking him in. She smiled shyly which was humorous to him given what all they had done last night. He fondly remembered spreading her legs wide and licking her sweet little pussy until she screamed and arched clear off the bed. He got so hard seeing her maiden blood on the bed that he had her immediately after the first time. It wasn't unusual for him to stay hard after an orgasm, yet it was unusual for him to be ready to come again so soon. Well his little wolf made him come many times last night. Look at her hips again, he took in all the bruises that littered her body. He wanted the servants to see them and spread the word to his father that she was hurting. 

"Did I hurt you?" He asked genuinely, very much aware he hadn't ever asked that question before. 

"Your size was something to deal with," she said smirking, "but if you are referring to how rough you were with me, I rather liked it." Didn't that just make his ego go through the roof. He could feel him growing hard against her thighs and judging by the way that smile of her deepened, she felt it too. He leaned forward, wrapping an arm around her small waist, and started kissing her. She opened herself up to him immediately. He had to nip her lips a few times in warning last night when she hesitated. Once he brought blood which had tasted fabulous. He remembered her moan when it happened too. Now his cock was rock hard and ready to have her again. Taking the initiative, he rolled on top of her, he felt her stiffen below him. So his little wolf was sore. Maybe he would wait to take her. No, he thought, she needed to know who owned her. She liked it rough anyways. He would show her what he was capable of. 

Pulling away from her mouth, he looked down at her, "Now, now, my pretty wife. You need to spread those legs for me." He chided, sitting up on his knees. Her eyes opened wide. "If you let me have you this morning, I'll reward you. If you don't, you'll be punished." While he said this, he reached under her and grabbed a handful of her perfect ass and lurched her body up and against him, her legs were still closed but now they rested against his left shoulder putting her tight little cunt against his cock. She gasped and fisted the sheets. "So tell me what it's going to be, Lady Sansa, the easy way or the hard way?" He over enunciated the "Lady" part a little just to get under her skin. Her little scowl was the desired reaction. 

"You can take me now." She said. He was about to open her legs when she suddenly moved her left leg over to his right shoulder then clamped her thighs around his neck and head. He braced himself as he felt her torso rise off the bed. She really didn't weigh anything, he thought, she needed to eat more. Now she was sitting astride his shoulders and smiling down at him, her red hair falling in silken waves around them. His siren, his little wolf was playing with him. He reached his muscled arms up and grabbed her hips. Smiling wickedly at her, he maneuvered her hips away from his face enough so that his mouth was perfectly level with her tight opening and that glorious little bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. He didn't give her time to react and delved into her pussy, lapping at her hard. He felt her hands grip and tug his hair, she was moaning loudly. He teased her clit by making slow circles around it and the licking her rapidly until she was shaking and then he would repeat. She was quivering above him, he felt a bead of sweat run over his fingers on her hips. He decided he wanted to try something with his little wolf. Angling her ass up a little, causing her to cling to him harder, he licked from her tight little asshole to her clit. Her gasp echoed across the room. Looking up he saw her her mouth open in a perfect "o" and her eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them. Smiling at her again, he repeated the same action, bottom to top. Her cheeks were bright red. Moving his hand around to the middle of her back to braced her as he let his other hand go off her hip. He used his free hand now to gently start massaging her asshole. It was wet from his spit, so he rubbed his thumb in it and gently started putting pressure on her ass. He felt her thighs tighten again on his neck so he turned his head towards he thigh and bit hard. She yelped and he felt her ass clench up on the tip of his thumb a little. Her pussy was weeping too, her arousal starting to run down to her ass. He pushed his thumb in a little deeper. She was panting above him, quivering again. Suddenly her internal muscles gave way a little and his thumb was buried in her ass. She moaned loudly and rocked her hips a little. Fuck, she was hot. Putting his mouth back on her sex, he started to finger fuck her ass slowly while licking her sweet little pussy roughly. He could feel her clenching up on his thumb even more. He licked her even harder. She wasn't far from coming from the feel of it. Her thighs were shaking hard now, he knew she was about to come. He decided to suck her clit into his mouth and bite. She screamed as her ass clamped down on his thumb and her pussy throbbed against his mouth. Suddenly she let go of his head and fell limp against his arm bracing her back. He pulled his arm away and let her fall in a heap on the bed, his thumb popping out of her. She was beautiful like this, her nipples still hard from her recent orgasm. Her face flushed. 

He stood up and walked over to the water basin and rinsed his hands. Walking back over to her he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her head off the bed. Her beautiful red hair was hanging off the bed as her neck was completely exposed. She looked like a goddess. She gasped a little and with her mouth open he thrust his cock down her throat. She sunk her nails into his hips and he moaned loudly. She let her teeth scrape him a little bit to show she was displeased with his actions but nonetheless she sucked him down her throat over and over. He started to pant after a few moments, he was getting close. He could feel the tremors in his legs and his arms. He hadn't noticed her hand slipped off his hip until he felt her fingernails caress his balls. That was the end of him. He started tensing up, he could feel the cum shooting out of his cock and down her throat. As soon as he felt it, her hands grabbed onto his balls and twisted tightly. He moaned loudly and came even harder. Fuck, he could see stars it was so intense. Suddenly she pushed him out of her mouth and took a giant breath. Apparently he had kept himself there for so long she had started to struggle for air. 

She looked up at him and smirked, "So it's true then. A woman's strongest weapon is in between her legs." She laughed slightly and rolled back over to the middle of the bed and burrowed deeper into the furs. 

He smirked back at her and said, "Now who would have told you that." As he sauntered back to the bed and laid next to her so he could look at her face. 

"Cersei Lannister told me that as Stannis was attacking the Red Keep in the Battle of the Blackwater. She assumed he would sack the castle and we would all be raped or killed by his men." She looked tired. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin didn't hide much. "I thought perhaps if Stannis could be reasoned with, he would return me to Winterfell. I had heard though that I would be given to him as a consolation prize to do with as he pleased."  
Ramsay had to laugh at that. Stannis Baratheon was many things, but a man who whored around wasn't one of them. Still the thought of his little wolf bedding another made him irrationally mad. When he looked back at her, she looked wounded that he had laughed. Shit, he wasn't laughing at that. He explained to her what Stannis was renowned for and she smiled then too. 

Becoming somber in the moment, he wanted to tell her something that had been nagging in his mind since he met her. "I've watched you since you've come here. You always have your guard up. You always sing little songs to us like a trained pet. Yet your thirst for wine is never quenched. When did you become addicted to it?" He saw her eyes grow hard for a moment then soften slightly. Despite having struck a nerve, he needed to know. He didn't like it at all. He knew it dulled her senses and provided an escape. He didn't want her to escape him. Ever. 

"Well I suppose that, too, stems back to the Lannisters. Living with them was... Unbearable. As a girl I thought it was the only thing I had ever wanted. I would be a queen. The Queen. Joffrey was handsome enough." She paused for a second and looked at him, slightly shocked. He suddenly realized he was growling slightly. Well, fuck. Why did he care what she thought of the little incest bastard. He was dead now anyways. As he cleared his throat, he motioned for her to continue. He didn't miss the small smile that appeared on her face though. "Joffrey was repulsive and repugnant to me. He tortured everything he came in contact with. He made me look at my father's severed head on a pike. He beat me in front of lords and ladies of the court. I drank so I didn't have to deal with him or my surroundings. I loved day to day surrounded by my enemies... He was a monster." She said softly.

"I am a monster, Sansa." Ramsay was surprised to hear his own voice but he knew that the portrait she was describing was eerily accurate to his own. "I torture. I kill. I maim. I have no regret for the actions either. Do you know what the North calls me?" He asked. When she shook her head, he said, "The Mad Dog Ramsay Snow. They compare me to my girls in the kennel. What they don't know is that I take it as a compliment." Reaching over, he needed to touch her soft skin. "You married a monster. You bed a monster. Willingly too. You want to rule the North with a monster at your side. You are willing to bear children who carry the same genes as their sire." He was stroking her shoulder softly. "Tell me, how does that make you feel?" He was testing her slightly. He knew she was smart enough to know the man he was. 

She reached up and gently placed her palm on his cheek. Then she sat up slightly and kissed his mouth softly. There was no demand in her action. Pulling back she looked him in the eyes. "I feel safe. I feel stronger than I ever have. Do you know why I feel like that?" She was questioning him the same way he was her. He decided he really enjoyed their repertoire. He shrugged at her and raised his eyebrows in question. "Because you're my monster."


	16. The Beginning of a Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short. Been busy with work, kiddos and the husband haha. I promise I'll update more ;)

Sansa spent the next few days growing accustomed to her role. It was strange trying to be so afraid when she wasn't after spending years of trying to be brave when faced with the epitome of fright. Everyday in Kings Landing had made her heart harden. She learned from the moment her father's head had separated from the rest of his body that she was a captive in the Red Keep. A prisoner who had no chains other than her womb. A son is what Joffrey wanted from her. The thought of him doing to her what Ramsay had done made her shudder in disgust. Joffrey wasn't nearly as strong or cunning as Ramsay. Maybe they had the same demeanor in some ways, but unlike Joffrey, Ramsay had a soft side. A kind side. She knew he liked it rough with her. He loved it when she fought him each night before he dominated her. She had to admit that she never dreamed she would be able to endure the rough couplings they had, let alone enjoy them. But every night he made her scream in ecstasy and nearly crush him between her pale thighs. She could tell he was trying desperately to conceive. He barely came anywhere else other than between her legs. She was immensely sore from it but not enough to turn him away. She desired the burn and stretch that was Ramsay. He had the ability to make her feel desired and needed. Yet she saw his retribution to those who dared oppose him. He was merciless and thrived on the game. He needed the hunt as much as he needed oxygen some times. He always was the victor. No one bested him, no one attempted to, really. They just tried to find a way to stay alive.

Her monster, she had said. He was hers, she could sense it. The entire ride back to the North she contemplated how much of herself she would lose to the bastard of Roose Bolton. How she had to marry the son of her enemy. How she would be raped and forced to bear a child that she would hate. Now she was just as desperate to carry his child as he was. She needed to secure the North. She needed to know that the present Lord and Lady Bolton would be mere memories of a time long past. That she would rise as the dire wolf she was and rip her enemies limb from limb, her mad dog at her side, flaying anyone who opposed them. Their son would be strength itself. He would rule upon the Iron Throne and make the Baratheon and Targaryen lineages fade away. But first she would find a way to use Stannis if at all possible. She had heard rumors that he was at Castle Black with her brother, Jon. Perhaps she could find a way to make them both fight with her, for her. 

She sat quietly in her chambers contemplating the future, stitching some new thing to make the hours pass. In truth, despite her love of being feminine, she felt the need to be fearsome and rough. She knew respect came from strength. But Cersei was strength... In her own wicked way. Her soft words were sharper than any sword. She still upheld the soft demeanor of a woman but to cross her was death. Sansa needed to achieve a look and stance that would invoke loyalty. Her people were of the North. They were hardy and resilient. She needed to look like the ice and snow she was raised in. Sighing, she stood up from her chair, feeling her muscles stretch and bones pop from sitting so long. She heard footsteps approach outside her door. Sitting down quickly, she grabbed her needlework and bowed her head. 

"M-Milady?" Reek's small voice echoed through the door. Reek never came near her anymore, unless Ramsay ordered him to.

"Yes, Reek?" She said, getting up and opening the door. Despite being somewhat cleaned up now, the man who was once Theon looked thin and sick. He no longer was the cocky young man she knew who would fuck anything that moved. From what her dear husband had told her, he had removed that bit of anatomy to remind Reek that he was Ramsay's pet.

"My master wishes to see you in the kennels, milady." He was quivering and staring at her feet as he spoke. She looked at him once over and decided she liked this new version much better than the old. Theon wasn't cruel to her but she liked the fact that he no longer felt entitled to any affection from her. She hated the way he emulated Robb and pretended to be more of a brother to her than Jon. Jon, despite carrying the last name of Snow, was her last sibling that was alive. 

"Of course, I will come now." She grabbed her furs off the rack in her room and followed Reek down to the kennels. The days were getting colder, she surmised, as her breath crystallized as soon as it left her mouth. Approaching the kennels she could hear the dogs pacing and growling. Reek stepped forward and opened the door for her. She stared at his face and then proceeded to reach over and force his eyes up to hers. He started shaking almost violently as their eyes met.

"You may go now, Reek." She said slowly. She didn't know why she had to look him in the eye when she said it but regardless he took off faster than she could have thought he was capable. She stepped inside the kennels and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness for a moment. Suddenly the door shut behind her and she stiffened. She needed to start carrying a knife with her. She felt warm breath on the back of her neck and large hands encompass her waist.

"My Sansa. I am so glad you decided to join me." Ramsay's voice was slow and deliberate. She felt herself relax and lean back against him. She could feel him tracing her ribs outside of her bodice. She felt herself hum slightly at his touch. She never had imagined this for herself. Happiness was something she never anticipated. "I want to share something with you. Something I think you'll enjoy greatly." He gently nipped the side of her neck and moved around to the front of her. 

Laughing slightly, she said, "Well if the past few nights were anything to go by, I assume I will as well. However, I can't say I will be entirely comfortable on the cold ground in the hay." A candle suddenly flared to life as Ramsay started lighting the rest of the candles in the area.

"This, my dear, will not involve me fucking you until you can't walk against the ground in my kennels." He paused slightly and looked at her. "However, I am now desiring such a scenario for the future." He grinned at her. Stalking towards her now, "I want to take you on a hunt." 

She quirked her eyebrow at him, "A hunt?" She repeated.

"Yes, it's a past time of mine that I think you will enjoy as well." He leaned forward and hovered his mouth over hers, "Unless you would rather stay here and keep shoving that little needle through fabric over and over until you're about to scream?" He was staring into her eyes, that ornery glint making he appear even more animalistic than he usually did. She smiled back at him and closed the distance between their mouths, licking at his full bottom lip. He opened his mouth and she dove in, licking at him and decidedly biting his tongue for mocking her. He growled in his throat and he started to grab at her skirts. His arousal was never something to be missed. She quickly ended the kiss and pulled back. His eyes were fully dilated, just a sliver of ice blue surrounding the dark pits of his pupils. 

"Show me." She said, knowing she was playing with fire. Ramsay wasn't easily deterred from his target once he was set upon it. However this time he smiled, showing teeth at her and stalked towards the back of the kennel toward that odd little box. He motioned for her to come forward. As she approached she could hear a whimpering now. Crying, even. She looked over at Ramsay, puzzled. 

"This is a true present for my wife." He said, making a grand display of unlocking the box and flinging the lid open. Inside of the box sat a disheveled and dirty girl. As the hair of the girl parted, Sansa saw who it was. His mistress. Well, previous mistress judging by the look of her. Her fingertips and toes were black from frostbite. Her body was bruised and battered and her hair hung in clumps around her face. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Myranda looked positively broken. Sansa felt a pull in her lower stomach. She was... aroused from this. She wanted to see her hurt. She didn't want to share Ramsay either, which was laughable considering she told him he would never be invited to her bed and she pushed him towards Myranda's. "Do you like it?" Ramsay's voice broke her thoughts.

Sansa cocker her head at Myranda and smiled sweetly at her. She knelt down next to the box and rested her hand on Myranda's shoulder. Looking her in the eye, she said, "Looks like he got bored with you." Myranda's eyes snapped up to hers, tears welling over anew. "Don't worry though, soon you won't have to witness it. Soon you'll be free of all of this. My girl, Aleyne, would love to play with you." She cooed at her. Myranda started sobbing uncontrollably now. Sansa could make out begging but nothing else. She rose and looked over at Ramsay. He was smiling at her. She sauntered over to him and grabbed his cock through his breeches. He exhaled deeply and rocked his hips into her hands, moaning. She looked over her shoulder at the dirty girl. She smiled sweetly again. "I am his wife. His lover. His everything. You are nothing. You served a purpose, but now you do not. You aren't even amusing anymore. I will enjoy watching the dogs rip you apart and I will walk over the pieces of you as I would dirt. Because in all reality, that is what you are." She turned and kissed Ramsay roughly. His moaning grew louder as she massaged him harder. Looking back over at Myranda, "I just hope you can run fast, little girl. It would be such a bore if they caught you too soon."


	17. On The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length of this last update. Life can be crazy ! This is a shorter chapter but I am hoping to start updating more regularly. For those of you who are Tom Hardy fans or happened to enjoy the movie Legend (2015) about the Kray twins, I have a new fic up entitled Patience that you can read !!! Thank you all !

Myranda was out of breath. The air sawing in and out of her lungs as she ran as fast she could through the frozen tundra. Her toes were taking on a blue hue as she ran half naked. Ramsay had turned on her. Something she had never thought possible. That fucking red-headed cunt had bewitched him. She knew it. She knew her Ramsay would never willingly turn his back on her. The tears didn't fall past her cheeks, instead they were frozen and burning again her skin. The howls of the dogs surrounded her body and almost caused her to fall. If she fell, she would be dead. She had to keep moving. 

"Myranda!" Ramsay's voice stopped her momentarily. "Where are you? My love wants a piece of you. Both of my girls do actually." He started laughing and it echoed through the forest she now found herself in. Her feet started carrying her again, with a renewed vigor. She had to keep moving. She spotted a small river just ahead past the clearing. If she made it there perhaps she could lose them. As she darted out into the clearing, she ran at full speed. A small glimpse of hope within her. She never heard the throng of the arrow speeding towards her. She screamed as her thigh gave out from under her and the pain of the shaft burrowed its way into her body. She noticed her ankle had twisted with the fall as well and was now swelling. She screamed at the top of her lungs in frustration. So many hunts she had gone on. So many nights spent below or above Ramsay, telling him how much he meant to her. All of this came crashing down the moment that wolf bitch set foot within the Dreadfort. She heard chuckling. Then she heard the low growls surrounding her in the clearing. One by one, the dogs slowed around her and paced. Waiting for the command to kill her. She was breathing loudly. The pain in her thigh was excruciating. Ramsay's arrow had stuck true she observed. The blood was pouring of out the massive vein within her flesh. No matter how this ended, she would be dead. That thought calmed her as she heard Ramsay and his bitch approach. Mustering as much dignity and strength as she could, she stared at both of them. 

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, my Lady Bolton? Looks like some meat ran from the hounds." Ramsay's perfect face and startling blue eyes looked upon her as he did all his game. She spit at his feet causing the dogs to growl. 

"Look at me, Ramsay." She said, demanding. "Look at what you've done to me. Your Myranda. The kennel master's daughter. The girl you grew up with. The girl who spent every waking minute making you happy!" Her voice grew louder and louder as she continued on. "The woman who bed you and only you. The woman who- who loved you." She choked on the last bit, more tears filling her eyes and freezing her cheeks. Ramsay stared at Myranda for a moment, his head cocked to the side like one of his mutts. 

"We see you just fine." A soft feminine voice cut through her reverie. "Do you know what we see, Myranda? A helpless, hopeless whore." Myranda looked over at the red-headed devil with contempt. 

"I was no whore. A whore comes from a far land to bed a man she plans to use for something. Even the king of this land wouldn't bed you. A green boy!" She spat at Sansa. "Now you tell me who the fucking whore is." She was seething. But she saw Sansa smile slightly and walk towards her. Suddenly her neck was about to snap as Ramsay grabbed a hold of her hair and wrench down hard. Her throat was exposed to this she-wolf now. She knew her time was almost up. 

"Apologize to my wife. Now." Ramsay's voice caused her to shiver and wet herself. She knew that tone well. She heard Sansa laughing.

"Darling, you've cause her to soil her beautiful dress." Sansa purred mockingly. The rags that adorned her body were covered in animal filth and dirt. "Perhaps we should let the girls handle this situation. They seem to be very on edge with all this tension." Myranda looked out of the corner of her eye at the nearest dog. The saliva dripping from its jowls ripped a frightened cry from her. Those yellow eyes looked right through her. 

"You're right, my love. My sweet girls are starving. I feed them well, but they can never pass up such a treat as this." The grip on her hair vanished and her head fell forward and hung loosely from her shoulders as she wept. "My beautiful girls!" Ramsay's voice boomed "Please. Dig in." 

The last thing Myranda saw were those yellow eyes as they ripped her apart. Piece by piece.

 

\--------

Sansa looked over at Ramsay as Myranda's screams died down. He was panting, his cock was completely engorged and staring at his breeches. As if sensing her stare, he looked over at her. She walked towards him. She needed him desperately. She moaned as their mouths met. Ramsay gripped her by the waist and hoisted her skirts up. Suddenly looking around, she spotted a tree nearby and drug Ramsay with her, skirts around her waist. Turning towards him, she saw he had already opening his breeches and released his monstrous cock. Hoisting her up, he impaled her on him and thrust hard into her, causing the tree to shake. She cried out loudly, the pain of him was ever present for her. She never truly adjusted to his size and each time they fucked she had to reacquaint herself to him. Ramsay moaned loudly. 

"You're so fucking tight, little wolf." His breathing was labored as he hammered into her. She had trouble holding onto his shoulders at the pace he was going. Her lower belly ached from the onslaught but she felt herself getting wetter and more excited. Looking over suddenly she saw one of the dogs rip Myranda's arm out of another's mouth. She came harder than she ever had. Screaming, she dug her nails into Ramsay's back and squeezed him with her thighs. She heard Ramsay moaning and picking up the pace even more. Suddenly she felt his hot seed soak the inside of her. He kept orgasming long after she had stopped. His face was sweaty and his arms were shaking from the intensity. His pupils were blown so wide his eyes almost looked black. When he finally stilled, they both slid to the ground and his cock softened enough to slip out of her. A rush of sperm came out of her and dribbled onto the ground. Her chest was heaving just as his was. She looked into his eyes again. He smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her and pull her close.

"These are the hunts I was planning on scaring you with." She couldn't contain her laughter. For the first time in a long time, Sansa threw her head back and had a hearty laugh. When she looked back at her beloved, he was smiling and chuckling with her. She could feel his love. 

"I think these have the opposite effect on me, Lord Bolton." She said still smiling.

"Yes. Yes, they do." He said looking at her again and then looking over at the remains of Myranda. The dogs had settled down somewhat and were each chewing on their respective pieces. "Never in an eon would I have thought I would meet someone like you, Sansa." He said quietly. She cocked her head to the side and reached over to grasp his chin and turn him towards her.

"We are both monsters, Ramsay. But that doesn't mean we have to be ruled by it. I never thought I could love you, yet here I am. In the middle of the woods. Recovering from the best experience of my life so far. And not thirty feet from us are the remains of your ex-lover. Explain to me how any of this makes sense. In truth, it doesn't, but I don't care. I am tired of being someone's victim. I need to be the aggressor from now on. I will not cower anymore. I am Sansa Bolton of the North and with you by my side we will decimate anyone who stands in our way." Ramsay eyes were stormy and alive as he stared at her. Moving forward he kissed he again, this time with desperation. As he pushed her down to the ground and nestled in between her thighs again she knew they would be inseparable.


	18. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, just to get my feet wet in this story again. However, expect more soon. I can feel it flowing again :) As usual -- thank you all !!

Ramsay smiled as he and his little wolf headed back to the Dreadfort. He had had so many hunts before her. Countless really. But this one was perfect. He couldn't show his heart down, the excitement ever present. Back when he thought the now dead Myranda was the closest he'd ever get to a partner, she assisted him on the hunts. She was jealous and petty. He didn't mind it though because it made her ruthless. Sansa was neither jealous nor petty. She walked like the regal queen she was destined to be. When he looked in her eyes, he saw the maelstrom that was her fury. She would kill anyone who stood in their way. She would kill for him. He knew that. And not because she wanted to please him, but because she loved him. His black and wizened heart had found its mate. And she was just as vicious as he. She really had the perfect hair color. Blood red and full of fire. 

She glanced over at him as he was smiling at her. Her red full lips smiled back at him and her blush was beautiful as it crept up her high cheekbones. 

"What are you staring at, Lord Bolton?" Her voice was soft and yet it purred with excitement. Her elegant eyebrow arched upwards to emphasize her question.

"I, my dear, am looking at the Queen of the North. My bloodthirsty wolf who keeps surprising me at every turn. One day you will be birthing me a son who will be just as powerful as the both of us. A true King to rule this land. Not a bastard." He had meant all of it with everything he was, but Sansa's frown spoke otherwise.

"You are worthy to rule this land as a true King. You are my King. My husband. My son's father." With that she placed her hand on her lower belly. Ramsay stared for a moment and tried to wrap his head around what she was implying. His horse slowed down as did hers. They were side by side now. "I'm pregnant, Ramsay. I was waiting until we got back to tell you but I couldn't hold it in anymore. You are the King of the North as much as I am the Queen. Our son with rule all of Westeros and spit on the graves of the Lannisters. Fuck the lions. The wolves will rule. The flayed man is our insignia and we will wave it proudly above the Red Keep." Ramsay blinked again and reach forward to place his right hand on Sansa's lower back and the left above her womb. His vision clouded somewhat. He could almost feel his child inside of her, metaphysically of course. She wasn't that far along. Amazing though. He had fucked her everyday at least once since they were married and this still was a surprise. "Are you happy?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, my little wolf. You carry my child in you. Our son. Our cub." He said with a laugh. "You are the most precious thing in the world to me." He looked into her eyes. "My father will not live to see his grandchild."

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Sansa smiled broadly. Her husband was everything she needed. Now that she was with child, she would have to play more carefully. Let the old bastard think she was barren. She would start putting blood on her bed once a month to ensure this lie would stick. Nothing would prevent this baby from coming. Nothing. 

"Of course you know what this means, don't you?" Ramsay's voice was dead serious.

"What?" She asked, scanning her brain for anything she may have missed in her plan.

"You can't do anything to put yourself or our child at risk. No more hunts, my love." She opened her mouth to protest, but Ramsay shook his head at her and continued. "You are carrying the most important figure in our history since the First Men inside of you. I won't risk your safety for anything, little wolf. Above all of that even. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you." His look of concern was genuine. She leaned over and kissed him deeply. 

"I suppose I can obey you just this once." She said, smirking. "However, I am not above slitting a few throats if I need to." Ramsay laughed loudly.

"You are going to be the death of me." He said, massaging her lower belly."

"Not you, my love. Just everyone else."


End file.
